Til the Clouds Roll By
by Swordy Rides Again
Summary: When Duo is gravely injured in battle, Heero starts to distance himself from the Deathscythe pilot and their relationship. 2x1, 3x4.
1. In the Blink of an Eye

**Author's note: A reposted fic on request but reviews are still welcome!**

**Warnings: 2x1, 3x4, bad language**

Til the Clouds Roll By

Part 1 – In the Blink of an Eye.

It's the strangest feeling. I wake and open my eyes but it's still dark. I try to imagine what the room looks like but my memory draws a blank. If it's anything like the other safehouses we've stayed in then it's a pretty safe bet that there's little in the way of furniture, other than the necessities. Typical Heero to choose houses like that. Normally I'd tease him about his poor taste in décor but to be honest, it's probably better that there's not much furniture.

Being blind makes you think like that.

I listen for a minute and determine that Heero is still in the room with me. For the first time that day (and remember it only started about a minute ago) I experience the frustration of not being able to see what he's doing. I can't hear the sound of typing so I guess he's not on his laptop. That's good. Heero gets pissy when you interrupt him when he's on his computer and right now I need his help.

"Heero," I say as I sit up in bed trying to drive the tiredness away.

He's at my side like a shot and I can't help but smile. His attentiveness would be touching if he weren't scowling, which I know he is. I can _feel _it.

"I need the bathroom," I tell him sheepishly. Hardly the declaration of love he was probably expecting.

"Okay," comes the reply.

I have to admit I'm surprised. Heero isn't a big one for acknowledgments but since I've explained that I can't see his silent answers anymore he's had to start speaking up. It's probably only the second time since I mentioned this that he's actually remembered to do it without me prompting him. A small victory I reckon.

I stand up and stretch and enjoy the feeling as my muscles pop. "Okay, I'm ready."

Heero takes my hand and leads me slowly from the room. Out on the landing I can hear the others downstairs. The smell of bacon floats up from the ground floor to greet me and I'm almost tempted to abandon the trip to the bathroom in favour of food, but my bladder is bursting and I know the others will leave some food for me.

I know we've reached the bathroom because the floor suddenly feels cold beneath my feet. Heero directs me towards the toilet but doesn't leave the room. I pause to see if he's going to go but I can hear his steady breathing. He's going nowhere.

"Uh, Heero?" I say, my voice slightly echoing in the tiled room. I love singing in here because my voice sounds so good. "I may be blind but I think I can remember how to take a piss."

I know Heero will be scowling now. He hates it when I 'swear'. Personally I think he shouldn't knock it until he's tried it. Maybe swearing would release some of that pent-up tension and he'd be less of a shit to live with. Just maybe.

He doesn't respond but I hear the door click shut so I guess he's gone. Either that or he's holding his breath. I relieve myself and just hope that most of it went in the bowl where it should have gone. I certainly don't want to have to ask Heero to clean up after me.

The smell of bacon safely locked out on the landing, I realise that I'm not really hungry yet. I make the snap decision to take a shower. I call out to let Heero know what I'm doing because for definite, he will be standing on the other side of the door.

"Fine," comes the reply. "Just call me if you need me."

_I need you_

"Okay," I reply cheerily although I'm hit by a wave of sadness. Before the accident, Heero would probably have offered to 'wash my back' which, any lover will know, means he would be joining me in the cramped cubicle. Now, he treats me like I'm made of glass even though I would like nothing more than his hands around my waist under the pleasant yet needling spray.

Instead, I have to content myself with my own hands as my fingers run through the masses of hair I have pulled free from the ever-present braid. I work shampoo from root to tip, careful not to let the suds get in my eyes. Yup, they still sting even though they don't work.

I stay under the spray until the water starts to run cold. I seem to have been here a while so I guess all the suds must be out of my hair by now. I realise that I didn't check whether I had a towel but fortunately my hand comes to rest on a large fluffy bath sheet just outside the shower. My wet hair sticks to the back of my legs as I step out into the steamy room so I use the towel to squeeze some of the excess water from it. I hope Heero hasn't strayed too far because I'll need his help to re-braid it. I think even the novelty of helping me with that task has worn off now. Even with all his training Heero still hasn't mastered the art of weaving three pieces of hair together.

I can still remember teasing him about his first few attempts. 'Come on, Heero!' I'd said, 'I could do it blind!' The irony isn't lost on me. To be honest, I _could_ do it blind but I enjoy the sensation of someone else, especially my lover, doing it for me. Or I did. Now Heero just sighs as he struggles with the rope-like sections. Occasionally he'll speak, but usually it's only to grumble that it's too long and I should get it cut. Maybe I should ask someone else to help me.

I wrap the towel around my waist and grope for the door. Once open, I contemplate making my way back to our room by myself but I can't remember where it is in relation to the bathroom. I don't want to risk falling down the stairs so I call Heero's name and stand and wait. The smell of bacon is still present and I hope that there's plenty left seeing as I've been so long in the shower.

"I'm here."

Heero's voice makes me jump as I realise he's stood right next to me. I let him guide me back to the room and, once inside with the door firmly shut, I grin at him as I finger the towel suggestively. Since I can't see his face, I just have to hope that he's watching me lustfully, although knowing how he's been of late, I very much doubt that's what he's doing.

"D'you want to get dressed? I need to run some errands," he says impassively. I may as well be wearing bright yellow waders and a sou'wester instead of being half-naked for all the effect it's having on Heero. I'm hurt, but I won't show it so I just nod and say, "find me some shorts and a shirt."

He helps me into the shirt and hands me the shorts when I've fastened several of the buttons on the front. He's obviously resigned himself to his hair-brushing fate as he helps me pull the lengths out of the back of the shirt. It's so long, I've accidentally tucked it into the back of the shorts as well and I laugh as we both struggle to free it. Heero evidently doesn't see the funny side as he starts to run the brush through the lengths with little compassion for my scalp as he encounters knot after knot.

"Easy," I chide him, hurt that he's making out that this once enjoyable task is now such a big hassle.

He starts to divide the hair into three sections and as usual, he asks me to hold one piece so he can concentrate on separating the remaining hair into two. I sit patiently as he takes the first section from me and begins to braid. When he's done, he fixes the end and lays the finished product across my shoulder so I can inspect it. I reach up and feel the regular pattern of woven hair before I run my fingers through the still-damp bangs that frame my face. They haven't been trimmed for a while and I can feel the longest ones are way past my eyes but I suppose it doesn't matter any more.

Heero doesn't say anything and I feel the need to fill the silence. "Shall we go eat?" I say, trying to sound happy… and normal. Normal? That's a laugh. Almost everything about us and our lives is dysfunctional.

I'm guessing he's nodded in agreement as he's taken my arm to lead me downstairs. I think about reminding him to speak rather than gesture but I don't want to look like I'm nagging him. I'm thoughtful like that. We reach the bottom of the stairs in, what the others have told me, is a large open plan house. For me it's good because it means there aren't lots of rooms for me to lose myself in. The downside is that all there's lots of furniture to navigate in the main living area.

The other guys are still at the large dining table and they all greet me to let me know that they're there. Although Trowa and Wufei are quiet like Heero, they seem to realise how important it is to speak up now I can't see them.

"Duo!" Quatre says, cheery as always, "I saved you some bacon, do you want it?"

I grin as I feel my way into the chair Heero has pulled out for me.

"That'd be great," I say. "I'm starving."

"Coming right up!" Quatre says happily as I hear him move towards the kitchen area, leaving me sat at the table with 'speak no evil' times three.

"What's on the agenda for today, Yuy?" Wufei asks, and I turn towards the sound of his voice.

In his usual monotone, Heero relates a list of tasks that need completing. My ears are pricked up when Heero mentions checking on the Gundams. After the disastrous mission when I was injured, Deathscythe, Heavyarms and Wing were taken to Howard's crew for repairs. Since then we'd been instructed to lay low. Howard apparently had phoned earlier this morning to say that they were almost ready. Trowa offers to go on the motorbike he had 'borrowed' a couple of weeks ago and I don't hear any of the others disagreeing. Before anyone can say anything else, I have spoken.

"I want to go too," I say, hoping my voice sounds as resolutely determined as I feel.

Somehow I can feel them exchanging glances but I have no intention of being talked out of this. Being stuck in the house has long since surpassed being boring. I'm more than a little surprised when Trowa suggests Heero takes the bike so we can go together. If we could do a slow motion replay then maybe I'd be able to tell who disagrees with that suggestion first: me or Heero.

"Heero's busy," I say without knowing whether he is or he isn't, "I'll come with you, Trowa, if that's okay?"

"No problem," he replies and I'm relieved to hear the sincerity in his voice. "We'll set off after lunch."

Happy with this, I feel my way to the front door having stored this route carefully in my memory. I like the old wooden porch swing out here - 'Very Little House on the Prairie' Quatre had said when we had first arrived at the house. The others had looked blank when he had said that but I knew what he meant. I think I've seen more TV than most over the years, as it's my favourite form of relaxation when we stop anywhere that's got a set. This house doesn't have one but I'm not really bothered. I'm not sure whether I'd enjoy it anymore now I can't see the action. I guess it's just another thing that'll take some getting used to.

One unhappy thought is replaced by another as I push the seat gently with my foot to rock it. I haven't seen Howard or any of the Sweepers since my accident and I'm a little worried as to how they'll react. I know they know about what's happened but I just can't bear the thought that they might be all anxious around me. We used to have such a laugh together and I don't want things to be any different. Almost as if he senses my sorrowful thoughts, Quatre is outside asking if I mind if he joins me. I shake my head and smile as he sits down next to me.

"Are you okay, Duo?" he asks when he's comfortable.

I consider telling him about how Heero is making me unhappy with the distance he has decided to put between us but instead I tell him what I've just been thinking about.

"Yeah I'm fine," I say, "I'm just a bit worried about how the Sweepers will be with me. I know my eyes don't look any different but they all know that they don't work any more. I've looked at blind people before and it can be a bit unnerving when they kind of stare." In my head I sound like I'm rambling and I get frustrated. "I wonder whether it'd be better if I just kept my eyes shut all the time."

Quatre is quiet and I suddenly feel guilty that I've burdened him with my insecurities.

I'm about to apologise when he starts to speak.

"I've got an idea, Duo!" he says almost sounding excited. "I think it might help. Do you want it to be a surprise?"

I'm intrigued, but I love surprises. "A surprise," I say. "Providing I don't have to wait too long."

Quatre laughs and the sound cheers me. He and Trowa have turned out to be my rocks recently as they treat me no different without even trying. I say that with confidence as, when sight isn't an option, you learn to pick up on the subtleties of the voice and I can tell when people say one thing but mean another. For instance, when Heero tells me that he's 'fine' when quite blatantly he isn't. I've no complaints about Wufei really, but we've never really been that close anyway.

Quatre announces that he's leaving as he's volunteered to do the shopping. He asks if I want to go with him but I shake my head and smile. "I'll stay here and await my surprise," I say, reminding him just in case he's forgotten.

He laughs again and then he's gone but the sun is warming so I decide to stay out here a little longer. A few moments later Quatre and Heero re-emerge and head off to the shops. I bid them farewell before I hear the car start up and drive away. The wheels spin just slightly as they leave the tarmac drive, which informs me that Heero is driving. He always drives like that, like he's on some heart-stopping getaway mission. I don't think he knows any other way. I smile to myself as I picture Quatre's pale face as he sits in the passenger seat gripping the door handle tightly. Poor Quatre. Alone again, I begin to reflect on this new direction my life has taken.

'My accident' as I've come to refer to it seeing no greater description, was the result of a botched attack on a surprisingly well-equipped base. In short, we fucked up. My blindness according to Sally is owing to head trauma whatever that means, which I received when Deathscythe was knocked flying and I smashed my head against the console. I'd blacked out apparently but when I came to, the blackness never went away. I'm not ashamed to admit I cried once the initial shock had worn off. I've cried plenty since but it's usually when something utterly defeats me and my sightless eyes.

For the most part, I let my vivid imagination take the place of my eyes. I can picture everybody's faces so I just visualise them in my mind when we're talking. It seems ironic that something should happen to my eyes. Everybody always comments on them, being the unique colour that they are. Heero would always tell me, in our quiet moments together when he could be more talkative in five minutes than he would be in a whole day of armed combat, that my eyes were his favourite part of me. He's never said that once since the accident.

Tiring of silence, I stand up and make my way inside. We arrived at this safehouse after the accident so I find it's impossible to picture what I am walking into. I imagine that it's light and airy with exciting works of art on the wall to add a splash of colour but in reality I know it is an ordinary house; in need of painting and with little in the way of luxury, as is usually the case with rented accommodation.

I remember that the settee is over to the right so I make my way over there where I pray that I left my CD player. If it's not there then Wufei or Heero has probably tidied it away. I think both of them are a little anal when it comes to neatness. I grope around on the floor and I'm relieved to find that it's there. When I turn it on I find the CD is in keeping with my melancholy mood and so I sit and listen, imagining all the songs are about Heero and me. Morbid I know, but I can't help it.

I didn't even know I'd gone to sleep until I feel someone gently shaking my arm. The CD has long since stopped and all I'm left with is the faint hiss that the player is still on. I run my fingers along the buttons until I find the one with the square on it. Once it's off, I take the earphones out of my ears so I can concentrate on whoever woke me.

"Sorry, Duo," Quatre says sounding guilty, "but I didn't want you to miss lunch"

I smile; Quatre knows me well. I stretch and go to get up but Quatre stops me.

"Oh hey, I almost forgot your surprise!" he says brightly as I hear his footsteps fading slightly. Before I have chance to wonder what he's bought, he's returned and has placed a small package wrapped in tissue paper in my hands.

"I thought about what you said before," I hear him say, noting his voice is suddenly solemn.

His gift is small and solid. As I run my fingers over it I realise Quatre has bought me a pair of sunglasses and I grin, immediately understanding his logic behind the purchase. I slip them on and turn to where I assume he is standing.

"How do I look?"

"Very cool," he says solemnly although I can feel him smiling at me. I can't help but laugh. Trust Quatre to be so thoughtful.

"Shall we do lunch?" I laugh, offering my arm for him to link.

"A splendid suggestion, my good man!" he replies, giggling as we head arm in arm to the dining table.

"Hey, Heero," I say as I pass by his chair and brush against the back of his head. "What d'you think of the present Quatre bought me?"

"Huh?"

I gesture to the glasses and grin broadly.

"He bought you sunglasses," Heero says flatly and I instantly realise that Heero's black and white way of looking at things can't make head nor tail of why someone would buy a blind man sunglasses.

"Well I think they look great," Quatre replies crossly as he turns and heads towards the kitchen.

Guessing that we're alone, I explain to Heero how I worry that my sightless, staring eyes might make people uncomfortable. He doesn't pass judgement either way and I can tell he thinks it's all in my head. I wait for him to put his arms around me and offer words of comfort but the others enter the room at that precise moment so he doesn't move. Still, at least I can delude myself that that's what Heero _would_ have done had we still been alone.

We eat an enjoyable meal, which I guess Trowa has made since there's lots of pasta involved. Talk revolves around an Earth Sphere Alliance broadcast Heero and Quatre heard on the car radio on their way back from shopping. Everybody has their opinions but I concentrate on the food, listening but never speaking. I feel so out of the war lately that I can't be bothered to comment. Now I'm just a civilian who happens to be holed up with a bunch of teenage terrorists. No biggy.

Wufei admits it's his turn to clear up so the rest of us move away to prepare for whatever we're doing this afternoon. Trowa checks that I still want to go with him and I nod resolutely. I can feel Heero's stare but don't comment. Maybe a little time apart would do us good, give us chance to adjust to the new direction our lives have taken. Wow, that sounded deep didn't it?

Seriously though, it seems ironic that we're having to readjust when our lives were just starting to make sense. Despite the war, we'd found something that was making the whole process a hell of a lot more bearable.

Each other.

With our feelings out in the open, we fought with new vigour. My fighting style became less reckless since I had started caring about whether I lived or died; I had someone to come home to at night and frankly, _it felt good_. Heero was starting to become slightly more human; the others had noticed and remarked that it was a positive step for the all-too-serious young man and that I should feel proud that I was the impetus behind the change. I _do _feel proud, or rather I _did_. Like I said, the accident and my subsequent injury has set us back and I honestly don't know whether we can recover the companionship and love that we'd found.

_I_ want to, but as Sister Helen used to say: 'what wants, never gets'.

No, I can't help wanting our briefly-lived happiness back but Heero's shutters have come down again and I'm not sure that they'll ever go back up...

Funny how everything can change in the blink of an eye.

TBC…


	2. Life As We Know It

**Author's note: Thanks for the reviews! Here's the next chapter – Swordy.**

Til the Clouds Roll By

Part 2 – Life As We Know It.

I decide that shorts aren't really adequate for a motorbike journey despite the clement weather and realise that I need to go back upstairs to change. Trowa is on hand to help me find my way upstairs since Heero is nowhere to be found. I'm guessing he isn't even in the house as Trowa takes the opportunity to ask if everything is okay between us. I smile although my heart aches when I realise Heero's indifference is now noticeable to the others.

"You know Heero," I say, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.

Trowa, as perceptive as always, sees past my façade. "Don't worry," he says in an emotionless voice that belies his true concern, "he's just trying to adjust to what's happened."

I want to shout out that surely I'm the one that's got the greatest amount of adjusting to do, but I know Trowa didn't mean it like that. In a lot of ways, he's very similar to Heero. I know from what Quatre has said that Trowa doesn't find it easy to talk about his feelings but at least he seems to have a handle on how to react to situations outside his role as a soldier.

We enter mine and Heero's room and I go to sit on the bed whilst Trowa finds me the faded denims I have requested. He passes them to me and leaves, saying he is going to change before we head off. After I am out of my shorts and into my jeans I grope under the bed until I find the battered pair of combat boots that I am rarely without. Trowa has said he will come back for me when he is ready, so the silence leads me into my favourite boredom-occupying thoughts: Heero and Me.

I realised I felt something for Heero not long after we met. Something about the way he completely drove me round the twist every time we were in the same room. I still marvel at the fact that I didn't kill him when I (foolishly) thought I was protecting Relena. Heero said I really made an impression on him that day. No shit, since I shot him in the arm. Looking back, I realise that Relena was a key figure in the path our lives took. It was her dogged pursuit of Heero that made me aware that I was jealous, particularly when Heero showed her any interest in return. Since I've never shown any interest in the non-fairer sex, I wondered initially whether it was _her_ I had feelings for. Yeah I know, but there was a lot of vodka involved when that particular thought flashed into my fucked-up head. When I'd got that crazy (and slightly sickening) notion out of my brain, the process of elimination led me to Heero. I didn't hate him, I loved him! Now how crazy is THAT?

Denial followed swiftly afterwards but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get the thought out of my head that we'd make one cute couple. Cuter even than Quatre and Trowa, who still try to play down the intensity of their attraction to one another, even now, when they know we know about them.

After denial came awkwardness. I couldn't be around him without my face looking like someone had turned the heating up real fast. To hide my attraction I engineered arguments; fights that made it look as if nothing had ever changed. We were renown for our personality clash so I just acted the way everyone expected me to. Heero came pretty close to kicking the shit out of me on a number of occasions, I wound him up so much. After several months of that he finally flipped and I found myself being tube-fed in the ICU ward of the hospital Sally worked at. Lucky really that our identities weren't known at that time, as hell knows how I'd have got treatment otherwise.

Everyone was shocked, but no one more so than Heero himself. He prided himself (if he knew what pride was) on being in perfect control of his emotions and I'd caused him to lose that control. Logical as always, he turned up one night, long after visitors had been sent away, demanding to know how I'd achieved something he'd always presumed was impossible. Whether it was the drugs or the blow to my head, (I remember him smashing me head-first through an antique dressing screen, which wasn't quite as flimsy as it looked) but I told him. I was in love with him and I didn't know what to do about it. Through the one non-swollen eye that actually opened I observed his reaction.

Nothing. Nada. _Zip_

I awaited further pummelling but that never came either. Instead he just calmly turned and left as if I'd told him something completely insignificant, like what I'd had for lunch (through the tube of course). He never returned during the remainder of my stay in hospital, which was about a week and after I'd graduated onto soup and pureed solids. Imagine my surprise then; when on my day of release, I was greeted at the main doors by Heero alone. Sally, who'd been on duty at the time, had looked a little perturbed at the idea of releasing me into the care of the person who had tried to open my face up by repeatedly smashing his fist into it. Clearly she thought I should stay the hell away from him and him from me, but in the true style of the lovesick, I reassured her that I would be fine and _wanted_ to go with him.

He helped me from the wheelchair and ensured I was seated comfortably in the old battered sedan he'd 'borrowed' (there's that euphemism again) for the occasion of collecting me from the hospital, before he fired the engine and drove off. We'd been travelling in silence for some time before I realised we weren't heading back to the safehouse. For a moment I reasoned that the guys must have moved safehouses whilst I was in hospital but I knew they would have told me if that was the case. Then the sick, horror movie-loving side of me decided that Heero was taking me somewhere desolate so he could 'finish off the job' and bury me under some shallow mound of earth.

"Uh, Heero?" I said, glancing across at the grim-faced boy beside me. "You wanna tell me where we're going?"

He ignored me until we reached the end of a long, un-asphalted track. I hissed in pain once or twice as we hit potholes that jarred my bruised body and frankly, by the time he stopped the car I was not in the mood for any of his shit.

"Come on, Heero," I complained grumpily, "we're supposed to be at home and I've got my medication to take. You know the shit Sally will give me if I don't…"

"I love you too," he said quietly, never looking up from his fingers, which were twisting nervously in his lap. That was weird.

I looked across at him and blinked. Did he really say that?

"Whoa, Heero," I started to blabber, "I think maybe you pierced my eardrums or something when you beat the crap outta me, come to think of it, I probably sustained a little brain damage, 'cause you really know how to throw a punch…"

For the second time in five minutes I was interrupted by the taciturn object of my affections, although this time he never used any words. Whilst I'd been blabbering and staring out of the window as my face changed an interesting shade of crimson, Heero had edged a little closer until he could reach over and turn my face to his. Then before I could laugh, cry, protest, do _anything_, he was kissing me deeply and passionately until my brain reminded me that in order to go on living, I needed to breathe.

I managed to pull back and take in a huge gulp of air as we remained almost nose-to-nose inside the rusty sedan. His eyes bored into mine and, even in my extreme state of confusion, I registered the look of uncertainty in those cobalt orbs. That was unnerving. Heero, who'd always been so sure about everything, was looking at me for the answers.

"I don't understand," I said to him, savouring the smell of him being so close.

Heero shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Nor I," he replied in his usual monotone.

Without another word, he moved back into his seat and turned the key in the ignition. As he started to reverse up the track I realised that the conversation was now at an end. As bizarre as that may seem to you or I, what happened made perfect sense to Heero. He'd decided that I was to be his and from that moment on I had no say in whether I was in or out. We were now a couple although he never made an issue of it. He never denied it either but clearly he thought it was something between us and us alone. Laugh if you will, but he can be extremely tender and in our more intimate moments he can say the most surprising things. I guess that's what hurts so much about the way he's treating me now. I may be blind, but I'm still Duo Maxwell. If only Heero would realise that…

The door opens again and Trowa is back.

"Are you ready?" he asks and I nod in reply. Time to blow this Popsicle stand.

We head back downstairs where I hear someone moving about. Trowa calls out to the person, who turns out to be Quatre, and asks him to fetch our coats from the cupboard under the stairs. My Arabian friend hands me my treasured black leather and I pull it on, feeling a little more like me when wrapped in its creaky folds.

"Very Arnold Schwartznegger," Quatre says appraisingly as he takes in the image of me in my leather jacket and sunglasses.

"I'll be back," I reply with a giggle. Quatre laughs in response but Trowa remains silent. Man, this guy needs access to a TV!

The three of us head outside to where Trowa has prepared the bike. As we go to get on, Heero appears as if by magic, his booted feet crunching on the gravel around the side of the house.

"Be careful," he says warningly. "If anything happens, hide Duo and deal with it."

I realise now that he was only addressing Trowa when he spoke. Sensible advice yes, but I can't help but feel hurt. He makes me sound as wretched and useless as I feel. I suddenly feel guilty burdening Trowa with my presence but before I can offer to stay home he replies.

"Don't worry we'll be fine," he says calmly, "Me and Duo can take care of ourselves."

That one small comment reaffirms my faith in humanity. I think Quatre's personality is rubbing off on Trowa more than he realises. Remind me to thank him later.

I feel my way onto the pillion before Trowa hands me the helmet. It's a tight fit with my braid sticking out the back but the chance of another head injury is something I just don't need. Trowa then climbs on in front on me and starts the engine, rendering any further conversation impossible. I snake one arm around his waist before we pull away from the house and out onto the open road.

The wind whips against my un-visored face and drags my braid out behind me like a pennant. The wispy strands of hair broken off through years of plaiting my lengthy mane tickle the nape of my neck as we roar along and the sensation of speed makes me want to whoop with pleasure. As if he senses my exhilaration, Trowa yells 'faster?' and now I do shout out loud, urging him on like the reckless youth I am. I don't need to see the road rushing past us to know that our velocity is both illegal and insane, but I know that Trowa is enjoying this as much as me. You see, Trowa is a lot like me in many ways (although those similarities are very different from the ones he shares with Heero). He too has a daredevil streak, which I hastily add, he conceals a lot better than I. Catherine once remarked that he genuinely has no fear when faced with a set of knives which are about to be thrown about his head and body and I completely believe her. He has no fear of death and nor do I. Kindred spirits are we, brought about through circumstance and a similarly shitty childhood. I don't need sympathy; I accepted that I got dealt a bum hand many years ago.

After many miles at breakneck speed, Trowa brings the bike to a halt at the side of the road. Engaging the kickstand, he helps me off and we sit side by side on the grass verge for a breather. I take off the glasses Quatre bought me and place them inside the upturned helmet as I allow my face to cool in the early afternoon breeze. My skin is warm and damp through being constricted inside the helmet and I savour the feeling of the wind until Trowa hands me a bottle of water.

"Thanks," I say gratefully before taking a long, hard swig. "How far away are we now?"

"About another forty minutes," Trowa replies, accepting the bottle from me when I've had enough.

"It's good to be out," I say, voicing the thought most prominent in my mind. I seem to be doing that a lot lately and I'm amazed that I've never insulted anyone yet as most of my musings aren't as innocent as that one.

"Yeah," he replies from beside me.

"Thanks for letting me come," I say and mean it, "I know bringing me is a bit of a burden if we were to run into any Ozzies."

"You know, Heero didn't mean it like that," he says, knowing that my lover's earlier comment will have inspired that thought.

I wish I could be so sure.

"He's hurting because he sees your injury as his failure."

I snort incredulously. "How can he possibly think that? He wasn't even on the same mission when it happened!"

"I know," Trowa replies, as placid as always, "but it still hurts him."

Silence swoops and carries away any further conversation like a hawk's unsuspecting prey. I want to believe Trowa, but I can't help the nagging suspicion that Heero no longer loves me because I'm no longer useful. I don't believe for a minute that he'd kill me like he would have done when we were barely acquainted, but I think he thinks I should leave our group to remove the burden on the rest of them. Maybe he's right, maybe it's selfish of me to stay now I'm no longer part of the cause, but where would I go? Call me ignorant but I'm sure the phone directory's not crammed with numbers of rest homes for out of commission teenage terrorists like myself. Maybe I should start my own: Duo Maxwell's home for war veterans who aren't old enough to buy alcohol but _are_ old enough to get themselves blow up. Scratch that; the sign itself would bankrupt me.

My off-the-wall thoughts are interrupted by Trowa, who suggests that we should resume our journey. I nod my agreement before I replace my sunglasses and slip the snugly-fitting helmet back over my head. Thank God I'll not be able to see how bad my hair looks when we get to Howard's place! Heh, I may be blind but I'm still as vain as hell!

Before long, the smell of the sea reaches my nostrils and I know that we're nearing our destination. The large converted tanker owned by Howard and the Sweeper group will be docked specially for the occasion of our visit and I'm guessing that it's plainly visible now owing to the sheer amount of space its hulking great mass occupies in the water. The bike slows and through the reduction in noise I hear the welcoming shouts of Howard's men. Trowa parks up the bike and the two of us head in the direction of said noise. His touch on my arm is minimal, knowing my stubborn pride is dictating that I should try to look as independent as possible in front of my old friends.

"Duo!" Howard calls out as we reach the top of the steel gangway. Before I can respond, I'm enveloped in his wiry-armed embrace. He smells of motor oil and burritos.

"Hey, Howard," I reply, almost overwhelmed by his warmth. Funny how something simple like a hug can threaten your sensibilities when you're feeling a bit sensitive. "How's tricks?"

Howard makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a sneeze. "Not bad," he says cheerfully, his hand still resting lightly on my arm. After a brief pause he must have turned to my companion because he says, "Trowa," by way of a greeting. Above the clanks and clunks of this huge vessel, I hear the shuffling of bodies somewhere close. The awkwardness I'd dreaded at this meeting of old comrades creeps up on me but I can't blame them; I'm not sure I'd know how to react if the situation was reversed. Howard, whose wisdom clearly extends beyond gundanium alloy and propulsion systems comes to my rescue yet again by instructing his men to come up and introduce themselves so I know who's there. Almost immediately my hand is clasped by a rough, callous-covered paw.

"It's Eddie, Duo, glad you're here kid."

"Thanks," I say before he's stepped away and another presence has taken his place.

"Digger," comes the second voice followed by a firm hand gripping mine.

And so it continues. I can't help but smile as an assortment of names and nicknames are related to me, swiftly followed hugs, handshakes and claps on the shoulder.

It feels like a homecoming of sorts.

TBC…


	3. Changes Beyond Recognition

**Author's note – Wow, I appreciate the reviews, guys! I'm guessing some people are stumbling across this story for the first time?**

**Bleh****: Glad you've read my FAKE stuff too, but if your comment refers to a fic in that fandom with a similar storyline, I wasn't the author. Sorry, but it's a bit of a bone of contention at the moment. Not that it matters, but this fic appeared first… Anyway, enjoy! – Swordy**

Til the Clouds Roll By

Part 3 – Changes Beyond Recognition.

After we've exchanged pleasantries, jokes and other foul-mouthed banter as is often the way with sea-folk, Howard leads us to the storage bay where our gundams are being kept. The air down here is cool and I take a few moments to breathe in when the familiar scent of all things mechanical assails my nostrils. I don't need eyes nor logic to tell me _Deathscythe is__ here_. You may well roll your eyes at that remark but I swear that machine and I share a bond. He and I are death, Shinigami if you please and I fight off the thought that we'll never work together as a team ever again as I am surrounded by people that I am loathed to cry in front of.

To prevent the onset of such maudlin thoughts, I ask Howard what he has done in the way of repairs to each of our machines. Howard chuckles and asks where he should begin. "I swear you guys think they're dodgems," he laughs never once complaining about the long hours that I know he will have worked to get our gundams right again. As we move further into the bay, he starts to tell us about some improvements and additions he's made but I stop him before he gives too much away. Don't ask me what's possessed me but I suddenly feel the need to prove something to myself.

"Don't say anymore," I tell him with a grin, "I want to work it out for myself."

Get me. Duo Maxwell, specialist subject: The Gundam Deathscythe.

For once I'm glad I can't see because I know for sure that they're looking at me like I've lost the plot. Howard, my saviour for the third time in an amazingly short period is used to my whims and flights of fancy so he obligingly directs me over to Deathscythe and lowers the foot cable. I'm glad I'm here with Trowa because Heero would undoubtedly be restraining me before I could ride almost sixteen metres in the air up to the cockpit. As it is, my friend lets me go, sensing my need to do this. As the foot cable comes to halt, I envisage where I am on Deathscythe and move to stand on one of the horizontal planes of my metallic friend's angular torso. I feel for the switch that will open the cockpit hatch and find it with ease. The familiar sound of the huge gundanium door swinging open is somewhat comforting and I scramble inside the cockpit once the motion is complete. As I edge into the pilot's chair it starts to sink in how my life has changed beyond recognition in the space of just three and a half weeks. I'm not going to say I was a normal, healthy teenager before the accident because I'm pretty certain that I was neither on both counts. My lifestyle in the fifteen years I've been alive has never been conducive to good health, be it physical or mental. I'm a wreck and I know it, but at least I had my sight.

There I go again, dwelling on things I had and will never have again. Determined not to do that away from a large bottle of vodka and the privacy of my own room, I start to run my hands lovingly over the console. Most fifteen year olds will just be starting to get acquainted with motorbikes and the like. Me? Well I have my very own fifty-three foot, armour-plated killing machine. As my fingers move across the bank of buttons, I mentally picture each of their functions. Up here, I have the confidence of Shinigami and know that I will not have made a single error as I name the switches and buttons out loud. Above the sound of my own voice, slightly echoic as I sit ensconced within Deathscythe, I hear the sound of the foot cable being activated again. A sharp tone inside the cockpit belatedly warns me of that fact and I smile at how sharp my remaining senses have become.

"Beat ya there, buddy," I inform the gundam, patting the console sympathetically as if it were a small child. I've stopped conversing with an inanimate object by the time the hatch opens to admit Howard and Trowa.

"Hey, Duo," Howard says when they've both found somewhere to perch. "How's it going?"

I offer him a broad grin of triumph. "Let me see," I say, flexing my fingers and cracking my knuckles before my digits dance across the control panel. "This switch is new and… so's this one." I pause deliberately and turn my head in Howard's direction. "So Hawaii-Five-O, care to tell me what they do?"

Howard laughs. It's a hoarse, scratchy sound; a product of too many years of cigarette smoke. "Holy hell, Duo," he says and I know he'll be stroking that wiry goatee beard thoughtfully, "nothing gets past you, does it?"

It's my turn to laugh and I do so, pleased that Howard is impressed by my fingertip observations. He guides my hands back to each of the new buttons and talks me through their functions. One is a new warning system for mobile laser units and the other activates an improved balance system, which if it had been installed just four weeks earlier then I may not be as I am today. Yes, blind.

Howard tentatively explains that, when activated, the system ensures that the gundam's knee joints give automatically if the machine was knocked over. This would have softened the blow when Deathscythe fell and I may not have received the head injury that I did. If wishes were horses, eh?

I nod in response to Howard's information but suddenly feel the need to get away from Deathscythe. The thought that these new systems will be for someone else's benefit is too hard to bear at the moment and I stand, indicating to my friends that it's time to go. Howard goes down first and then it's my turn to take the foot cable back to ground level.

"See ya, buddy," I say quietly, all too aware of the wavering note in my voice. I touch the cold gundanium one last time before I take the handhold from Trowa and start my descent.

My wonderfully sensitive friends seem to realise that I've had enough and Howard suggests I take a drink with him whilst one of the others shows Trowa the other gundams. I know Trowa will be anxious to see what they've done to Heavyarms so I nod in silent acquiescence of Howard's plan. I don't want to trust my voice at that moment. Howard shouts Einstein over to look after Trowa and I manage to raise a smile as I hear the familiar nickname. 'Einstein' had been thrilled when the rest of the crew had deemed that a suitable sobriquet; naturally he had assumed it was owning to his immense intelligence so no one had had the heart to tell him it was because he bore a startling resemblance to Howard's old dog of the same name.

Trowa says he will join me soon, after he has gathered the necessary information to take back to the others. I smile and tell him to take his time, anxious to show him that I'm okay after that momentary blip. As soon as his footsteps start to fade away, Howard touches my arm and we head towards the ship's canteen. Despite everybody's good-natured attitudes as we pass, the hustle and bustle as we walk through the ship is a stern reminder that the world is still at war. Howard's men are hard at work and the canteen is virtually empty as we enter.

I take a seat at one of the empty tables as Howard goes off in search of refreshment. Alone briefly, I use my mind's eye to recall this location. I picture everything, right down to the overflowing ashtrays and posters on the walls displaying women wearing little more than smiles and gaudy gold jewellery. This place holds some happy memories, as strange as it may seem to have memories at all about eating establishments. On L-2, I don't think I ever had a decent meal, other than when I was in the Maxwell Orphanage. Even then, I don't think I ever ate a _full_ meal.

Some of the other children thought stealing my food was suitable punishment for the crime of being Father Maxwell's 'favourite'. He never treated any of his children any different but the others didn't see that. I was small, odd looking with my long hair and purple-blue eyes and tried the patience of saints and Father Maxwell alike. I have memories of being to _only_ child in the orphanage at one point after a particularly good run of successful adoptions. For some reason, nobody wanted to take me home. A couple of times I was taken home for a 'test run' but I was returned just as swiftly when I didn't fit into their perfect family fantasies. The do-gooders said I had 'attachment issues', which doesn't surprise me since everyone I've cared for has either left me or died. I guess it became a self-fulfilling prophecy; people treated me like demon so I started to act like one.

But I don't dwell on those early rejections; I just like to think that God had a higher purpose for me in what I was to become. Meeting Howard and his men gave me the first real bit of stability and sense of family when I came to earth. They welcomed me in with open arms and soon I was surrounded by laughter and an awesome sense of camaraderie. From the moment I discovered there were other pilots like me, I began to develop a similar bond with them. If I'm honest, I think maybe I was looking for a family of sorts, and in a way I got what I wanted. The thought of leaving them is something I don't really want to consider, but I have to think about what's best for them.

Howard returns to our table with drinks; tea laced with whiskey he's pilfered from someone's locker. For a moment we sit in silence as we sip the fiery liquid. I start to feel fuzzy almost immediately, proving that I'm one hell of a lousy drinker. Howard laughs as he notices me wincing at the taste and I can't help but do the same. Howard is one of those people whose good nature is infectious. No matter how shitty you're feeling he can almost make life seem half decent. But as I was about to learn, Howard can be serious when the moment arises. And that moment was now.

""Duo…" he says and for some reason that three letter word makes me anxious. "Tell me to shut up if you want, but have you considered what you intend to do now?"

I put the cup down carefully and absent-mindedly scratch at something on the table that I can't see. I don't really want to talk about it, but I like and respect Howard too much to tell him to piss off.

"Not really," I reply truthfully, "I guess I've been avoiding thinking about it."

"That's understandable," Howard replies gently, "but I want you to know that there's always a place for you here."

I smile and am glad I have the sunglasses to hide the moisture in my eyes. "Thankyou," I say gratefully before I think of Heero, "but it's not that simple."

Howard doesn't know about me and Heero so he can't see what's holding me back from re-joining him and the Sweepers. Still, as good friends do, he respects my decision and doesn't push the issue.

"Well okay," he says, punctuating the comment with a throaty cough, "but this is your home too, Duo. I'm not offering free board and lodgings as you've proved that you can still find your way round a gundam without your eyesight."

This piques my interest somewhat and I respond with a nod. Being treated as normal is what I need right now and frankly I'm not getting that from Heero.

"I'll think about it," I say, draining the last of the doctored tea, "but whatever I decide to do I'll always be grateful for your offer, Howard."

"You're welcome," he replies as the door behind me opens. I sense someone approaching and correctly assume that it's Trowa.

"All done?" Howard asks my companion as he draws close.

"Yes. You've done a great job," Trowa replies, the tone in his voice a mixture of awe and gratitude.

We all have an excellent level of mechanical skill and are not ignorant to the amount of damage our gundams sustained during the last attack. The fact that the others will be able to collect their machines in approximately twenty-four hours is a testimony to the skill, dedication and hard work of Howard and his men.

Howard offers Trowa a drink but my friend politely declines. "We should be getting back," he says before he touches my shoulder gently. "Duo, are you ready to go?"

"Sure," I reply, pushing back my chair and standing slowly. My back twinges and I have to wonder if didn't damage that too when I was injured. Allowing Trowa to lead, the three of us head back to gangway where we first boarded the ship. There are shouts of 'bye', 'see you soon' and other slightly less repeatable farewells that serenade us as we pass. At least I'm leaving with a smile on my face.

Howard comes all the way out to the bike with us. Before I climb on and as Trowa concerns himself with fastening his helmet, Howard pulls me into a hug and repeats his proposition in my ear.

"Think about it," is all he says and needs to say.

"I will," I promise him as he lets me go.

The ride back the safehouse is uneventful and somewhat muted. We don't stop and this time we take lots of turnings as a safeguard against being followed. By the time the bike draws to a halt, I'm glad to be back since my rear lost all feeling about fifty miles back and my ears are ringing from the constant drone of the engine. I dismount and am about to go inside the house when Trowa catches my arm.

"Duo?" he says, and I get the feeling I'm about to have a similar conversation to the one I just had with Howard.

"Yeah?"

"Howard asked you to stay didn't he?"

I'm not sure who's more perceptive - Trowa for guessing what Howard and I had spoke about or me for guessing that he'd guess.

"Yeah," I reply, reaffirming my belief that I never lie.

There's a brief silence before Trowa responds. "Just think about it carefully," he says, his voice giving no indication to his real feelings. "I don't want you to go and neither will the others, but if that's what you want then we'll stand by your decision."

I nod thoughtfully as I take in his words. I honestly don't know what I intend to do so instead I say "thanks Trowa," before we make our way inside.

Silence greets us as we enter the house. "Hellooooo. We're back," I shout just in case someone is about to jump out and shoot us – an occupational hazard of being wanted criminals. After a moment, I hear movement from the upper floor before footsteps emerge from one of the rooms and come down the stairs.

"Heero?" I say, more so to Trowa at my side, who replies with an affirming vocalisation.

"Was everything okay?" Heero asks before he's even reached us. Yeah I know, he's shitty at pleasantries.

Trowa relays the information as I take my coat off and wait patiently to be noticed. A couple of minutes slouch by as Trowa and Heero talk technical stuff and judging by the slightly detached note in Trowa's voice I'm thinking he's probably wishing Heero would shut up so he can go and do a little lip wrestling with Quatre. Actually that's not a bad idea… with Heero I mean. Sheesh, you didn't think I meant Quatre just then did you? Heero however, is not to be distracted when he's in 'mission mode'. They finish their conversation and I hear Heero's footsteps starting to move away.

"Hey!" I call out before he can disappear, "Where are you going?"

Heero stops, judging by the cessation in footsteps. "I have to go and send this information to Dr J," he says, somewhat irritably. Pardon me for breathing.

"Well I need to go upstairs too so d'you mind helping me?" I say, refusing to let my hurt seep into my voice.

Together we go upstairs in silence. Although I was glad to get out today, I realise that my body continues to tire easily since my accident and I now need some rest. I am painfully aware of my limits and the realisation that I am wearied by riding on the back of a motorbike for several hours does nothing to brighten my low mood. I sit down on the bed and am grateful when Heero helps me unlace my boots. He instructs me to lie down but I ignore this, instead clasping his arm to prevent him from leaving. Secure in my grasp, I use my other hand to reach out and touch his face and I am encouraged, as he doesn't push me away. After a moment, caressing the soft skin of his cheek, I lean in and kiss him, tentatively at first but then more passionately as he starts to respond.

For a second, the world is all right as he devours me as he has done repeatedly ever since that fateful day in the battered sedan. He clutches my hair and I allow my grasp on his arm to slip as my hands run across the taut muscles in his back. With both hands still woven into my mane, he starts to push me back down onto the bed as I moan with pleasure, despite the dull ache in my back and the feeling that my rear end has been amputated, since I can't feel a thing down there anymore. Then, as quickly as a flame being extinguished, he lets me up whilst muttering something about his laptop.

"Heero…" I complain as I try to recapture his arm to prevent him from leaving, but he is already out of reach.

"I have to work, Duo," he says firmly and I detect the annoyance in his voice.

But there's something else too… Sorrow? Pain? _Guilt_? I can't tell. Times like this I wish I had Quatre's empathic abilities as I try in vain to read my unreadable lover.

"Fine," I say shortly, turning my back on him to show my displeasure. Even Heero can read a hint like that but he hesitates before he walks away.

"I'm sorry, Duo," he says quietly.

"Me too," I reply coldly before I let myself drift into an unrestful and agitated state of sleep.

TBC…


	4. And Nothing We Do Or Say

**Author's note: Thanks for the continued reviews. Updates will continue to be daily because this fic is long finished. It's nice to be able to do that! – Swordy**

Til the Clouds Roll By

Part 4 – And Nothing We Do Or Say.

I awake to darkness and presume it's the middle of the night. Then I realise what I already know and wonder how long it will take for me to recall my blindness before a stupid thought like that pops into my head every time I open my eyes. My hand wonders across to the bedside cabinet in between our single beds and, after a little groping, finds the clock, which I assault with my fingers until I have found the right button.

"The time is four fourteen am," the clock informs me in its jerky robotic speech.

Like the sunglasses, the talking clock was another of Quatre's thoughtful gifts.

In the bed across from me, Heero is awake like a shot. He's been trained to sleep so lightly the sound of the clock is like someone shouting into his ear. I feel guilty for waking him but that soon fades as I realise he's slept in his own bed rather than being squashed with me in mine.

"Heero," I say, my voice still thick with sleep despite my wakefulness. "Why aren't you in here with me?"

There's a pause as I hear Heero turning over in his bed. "You needed to rest," he says in his slightly patronising 'Heero Yuy knows best' voice. Then his tone softens and he says, "and I thought you'd fallen out with me."

I think about it and realise he's right. I _had_ fallen out with him and now I've blown my sulk by speaking to him. Damn!

"Yeah well…" I say grumpily pushing my hair off my face, "You never normally take any notice of what I say."

Silence reigns for several moments before my recall of the previous day kicks in and I recognise that I must have slept right through from when I returned from Howard's.

"Hey!" I cry out, "I missed dinner! Why did no one wake me?"

Heero's response indicates that he doesn't see the importance of missing a meal. "Don't worry, I gave you a supplement shot while you were asleep."

That's Heero all over. Food to him is nothing more a collection of essential vitamins and minerals needed to function to his fullest potential.

"Gee thanks," I say, sincerity completely absent from that remark.

Heero ignores that to deliver some news. "Sally rang for you while you were asleep."

I shift in my bed to free my braid from under my back. "What did she want?" I reply, not bothering to disguise my disinterest.

"I don't know," my lover says quietly, "She wanted to speak to you."

I contemplate what the good doctor wants with me. "Probably ringing about my seeing eye dog," I say sarcastically.

"That's not funny, Duo," Heero replies shortly and I can sense his tenseness transmitting through the space between us.

I consider explaining sarcasm to Heero but I decide against it. Instead, I mull over recent events, including Howard's offer. As I weigh up the pros and cons I come to the conclusion that the decision rests with Heero. The next few days will be a test, of his love and loyalty towards me and whether he can maintain his feelings for me now I'm no longer a partner in work as well as play. Firm in my resolve, I decide that there's no time like the present and the test will start now.

"Heero?" I say, undoubting that he is still awake.

"Yes?" comes the sleepy reply.

"Make love to me."

There's silence punctuated only by Heero moving slightly in his bed.

"Now?" he says finally, his response allowing me to let out the breath I wasn't aware I was holding.

I roll my eyes. "No, a week next Tuesday! Of course now, you baka."

It feels weird for me to be calling Heero an idiot when that's what he's called me ever since we first met. To my surprise, I hear his bed creak as his weight is removed from it. The next thing I know, he's lifting my covers off and climbing in bed beside me. My heart soars as a strong arm comes around my shoulder and pulls me into a firm embrace. With a gentleness that no one would think possible of the soldier known as Heero Yuy, he strokes my hair away from my forehead and kisses the cool skin beneath. I raise my head to meet his lips and we kiss, slowly and passionately as I bring my hand up to caress his strong chest. After several moments of kissing and touching, Heero shifts slightly so I am underneath him. He's taking the initiative just as he always does, and inwardly I am cheering that he didn't reject me but also cursing that I went to sleep fully clothed.

As if he senses my wish to be as God intended, Heero starts to unbutton my jeans and I raise my hips in anticipation of the struggle that always ensues when trying to remove denims whilst horizontal. Said item of clothing reaches my knees and I giggle as Heero pulls at them like his life depends on it. Finally they drop to the floor and Heero crawls back up my body to continue our frenzied osculation.

"I love you, Heero Yuy," I say as we both come up for air.

Before he can respond the moment is shattered by a firm, insistent knock at the door.

"Heero?" says the voice from outside, which is quite clearly Wufei's.

I allow my head to fall back onto the pillow in resignation. I know exactly where this is leading and I sure as hell don't like it.

"Heero," Wufei says again a little louder this time. "Problems. We need to talk."

"Okay I'm coming," Heero responds before I can beg him to negotiate five more minutes.

We listen as Wufei's footsteps disappear down the hall before Heero untangles himself from me and leaves the warmth of our bed in search of clothes.

"I don't fucking believe it," I say, not caring what Heero thinks of my choice of language. I'm pissed off and frankly I intend to let the world know about it. Although I know it's irrational, I'm pissed off with Wufei aka 'Mr Justice' who has unwittingly just caused the greatest injustice of all.

"I have to go, Duo," Heero says and I'm slightly comforted to hear the apologetic and slightly wistful note in his voice as he leaves me half naked in bed. He comes over and kisses me quickly before he heads for the door and goes to join the others downstairs.

I lie there for several moments cursing at what I see as my utter bad luck. If I didn't know better, I'd say there were forces at work trying to keep me and Heero apart. I'm a firm believer in fate and the notion that 'God works in mysterious ways' but sometimes it's hard not to be angry at what life sends your way. I'd have thought I deserved a bit of happiness after my rather crap start in life but evidently that's not the case. Sister Helen always used to say I would 'get my rewards in Heaven' and I'm damn well hoping she's right since I don't seem to be getting any on earth. Ah, listen to me moaning. Three cheers for self-pity!

Aware that I'm not likely to get back to sleep any time soon, my mind begins to ponder what 'problems' Wufei could have been talking about. With that thought comes the realisation that Wufei had obviously felt that there was no point involving me in the discussion and I start to grow angry. I may be blind but I still have an opinion!

Throwing the covers off, I grope for the jeans that Heero had removed for me and pull them back on with movements that convey my annoyance. I find my way to the door and open it but then I am forced to pause. I've never been downstairs without assistance and that realisation only exacerbates my irritation. I've allowed myself to be treated like an invalid, giving up the independence that has been mine since birth.

"Come on, Duo," I mutter to myself as I begin to feel my way along the wall. Eventually the wall disappears and I tentatively put my foot out, realising that I've found the stairs. Jubilantly I find the handrail and I begin to descend with the confidence of a seeing person. Part way down, I hear the others' voices and curiosity causes me to pause to see if they are talking about me. After listening for a couple of seconds, I realise that they are.

"He's safer with going with Wufei in Shenlong." That was Heero.

"But surely a gundam is more likely to be attacked?" Quatre that time.

"I don't mind taking him on the bike," Trowa interjects.

"But if Oz is close by like Sally thinks then you'll be too vulnerable on the bike," Heero insists. "Having Duo with you will only slow you down further."

Goddamnit Maxwell, why do you listen in to these conversations? I'd be lying if I said it didn't play havoc with my self-esteem. I continue down the stairs, treading heavily so that the others are alerted to my presence. Yeah, I'm gracious enough to give them time to stop talking about me. Wouldn't want them to be embarrassed, would I?

"Duo," Heero says, surprised that I'm here, "you should be resting."

"Yeah, yeah," I reply, waving a hand dismissively as the other appendage remains firmly attached to the banister. "All the excitement kept me awake."

I reach firm ground and allow myself to grin in self-satisfaction. I'm going to carry on and score a perfect ten by finding my way outside to my favourite porch swing on my own. Don't ask me why, but I don't want to turn round and go back up to bed, but I equally don't want to sit down with them.

"Where are you going, Duo?" Quatre asks, sounding slightly nervous. He's not stupid; he knows I'll have heard them talking about me.

"To sit outside," I reply, as if going to sit outside at four o'clock in the morning is the most natural thing in the world.

"But it's raining," Wufei adds.

"So?" I reply, as if going to sit outside in the rain at four o'clock in the morning is similarly okay.

No one stops me so I head on outside. I find the swing and sit down despite the fact that it is colder than I'd anticipated. The air out here is fresh and seems perfect for clearing my head. In the Howard versus Heero contest I've devised in my mind, both have now scored their first points; Heero for not denying me love when I asked and Howard for… well, strictly speaking Howard isn't actually scoring the points, more so the negative actions of Heero and the others are scoring on Howard's behalf and pushing me towards his offer, if that makes any sense. The way they all talked about me like I was a rag doll to be passed around just then was a huge minus for Heero and my so-called friends.

In my solitude, I think I hear a noise above the incessant drumming of the rain. I suspend my ruminations for a moment to listen more carefully and yes! There it is again. I stand slowly and contemplate going back inside to get Heero and the others, but I decide against it. Heero won't take kindly to me interrupting their urgent discussions to tell them I heard a bird or something. So instead, I make the decision to move away from the porch in order to be more certain about what I've heard. I ignore the rain, which instantaneously soaks my clothes and sticks them to my body, and edge around the house, keeping my tread soft so as not to alert whatever it is that is making the noise. My blind stealth is suddenly foiled as my foot makes contact with the gravel that forms the parking area at the side of the house. I freeze, inwardly cursing the homeowner's choice of outdoor surfacing, as I listen for that noise again. Instinct tells me to return to the house but alas, the warning bells have sounded too late as I feel cold steel being pressed into my neck as a voice growls quietly: "don't move or I'll blow your brains out."

I do an instant mental calculation and realise the odds are stacked against me. I could try and fend off this attacker but my chances of being shot, probably fatally, are very high since I have no way of knowing if this person is alone or not.

"Put your hands behind your back. Slowly," the voice insists, punctuating the demand by pushing the gun further into my neck.

Reluctantly and against my tried and tested soldier instinct, I do as he says. Immediately, my wrists are encased in icy metal and I realise my chances of escaping unscathed have slipped another notch. The next time my attacker speaks, I notice the increase in confidence in his voice now that I am shackled.

"Start walking, 02," he demands as he shoves me roughly in the shoulder. I don't intend to antagonise him, but my feet remain still as my lack of sight causes a surge of fear through me. I've barely even registered the fact that my identity is no longer unknown.

"Don't fuck with me, 02," he growls pushing me again and causing me to stumble. I hit the ground hard as I don't have my hands to break my fall and a cry of pain escapes my lips as my shoulder jars. The ease of my apprehending is evidently unnerving my captor who kicks me hard in the stomach to vent his anxiety. Needing to replace the air that has just been booted out of my lungs, I roll over onto my back, coughing and wheezing as the rain pounds my face and melds me with the muddy ground.

"What's wrong with you?" he yells, trying to drag me up and growing more agitated by the second. "Don't you fucking understand what 'walk' means?"

"I'm blind, you moron!" I scream back at him from my position in the dirt, cringing at the mire that is coating my hair and body.

He pulls me upright and prevents me from doubling up in pain, which is my instant reaction. The voice that then floats through the downpour chills me to the bone.

"Is that so?" he says, sounding genuinely pleased. "Well if you're that useless then maybe I should kill you on the spot."

At this proclamation of death I snap, forgetting my pain in an instant. "Go on then!" I yell, partially sobbing as anger consumes me. "Do it! You're right! I _am_ useless, so do me a favour and end my miserable fucking existence!"

The fact that I am still alive five seconds later only enrages me further. If this is what having a death wish is like then boy, have I got it _bad_. "What part of that don't you understand, you loser?" I scream hoarsely, "I _want_ to die so go on, shoot me!"

Finally a gunshot rings out but there is no pain. I hear a body crumple into the earth and as it lands at my feet, I realise that the end has come, but not for me. Denied the conclusion that I have just begged for, I too hit the ground after my attacker, my tears now coming as thick and fast as the rain.

"Duo!" I hear Quatre shout but he sounds very far away.

Gentle but firm hands pull me into a sitting position and someone frees my hands, presumably using the key that my now lifeless assailant was carrying. Someone else pushes my sodden bangs off my face as I start to struggle, my mind disorientated by this whirlwind of events.

"Easy, Duo," Trowa says as he, Quatre and Wufei try in vain to hold me still but I am not to be placated. "Heero!" he shouts over my anguished sobs as my wild writhing threatens to defeat them, "Come and help us!"

But Heero doesn't come.

Much later, when all these events were nothing more than a distant memory, Quatre would tell me that he, Trowa and Wufei could only watch as Heero lowered his gun, turned and, without a word, went back inside the house, leaving the four of us sprawled on the floor as the rain continued to beat down mercilessly upon us.

Heero had heard every word as I, his lover, pleaded for death from a total stranger and Quatre would later also insist that that was the reason for the presence of a single tear on Heero's pale cheek as he retreated inside the house and away from the madness that was being played out at four am one cold September morning.

TBC…


	5. Makes Right From Wrong

Til the Clouds Roll By

Part 5 – Makes Right From Wrong.

"You're awake," a voice announces from far above me and despite the haze, I note relief in its tones.

The voice continues to speak now but I choose to ignore it, instead concentrating on the calming blackness that has become my world. To my consternation, the voice doesn't want to let me rest and it speaks to me directly now, asking questions that demand answers.

"Duo?" That sounds a lot like Quatre. "Can you hear me?"

"I hear ya, Quat," I reply slowly through a scratchy throat that stings as I speak. "What happened to me?" I want to know because quite frankly, I feel like shit.

Quatre's presence moves alongside me and he gently touches my arm to let me know where he is.

"Sally contacted us to say she'd had information that suggested Oz were operating near our safe house. She wasn't sure whether it was coincidence or whether they'd found us, but knew we had to leave. As we were discussing what to do you went to sit outside. The next thing we knew there was shouting and you'd been caught by an Oz soldier. Fortunately he must have been the scout as he was alone so Heero disarmed him easily."

'Disarmed him' is Quatre's euphemism for Heero blowing the soldier's brains out. Despite everything he's seen and experienced, Quatre still feels he needs to be polite about death. I know I should be shocked that my lover has committed cold-blooded murder on our doorstep, but death is just another occupational hazard of participating in this war. 'Kill or be killed' is the unfortunate axiom we have learnt to live by.

"Where is Heero?" I ask, suddenly anxious to speak to him.

There's an awkward silence, punctuated by Quatre shifting slightly in the chair next to my bed. "He's not here," he says almost apologetically. "He found it hard to stay around after…"

My friend trails off and I sense that he is struggling to find the right words. I'd like to make it easy on him by letting him leave it at that, but I need to know what happened.

"After what, Quatre?" I ask, although I'm dreading the answer as several hazy images begin to perforate the fog that is my waking memory.

There's that awkward pause again. "You practically attempted suicide," he says quietly. "The soldier was threatening to shoot you and you were begging him to do it." Suddenly Quatre grips my hand. "Tell me you were bluffing, Duo, _please._"

I squeeze my eyes shut and fight back tears. I want to lie to my gentle friend, but I just can't. "I wasn't bluffing," I say and I am ashamed to have those words pass my lips knowing how much they will hurt him.

"Oh, Duo," he cries as he hugs my prone form as best he can. The weight of even Quatre's small frame causes me to gasp in pain and he is off me like a shot. "I'm sorry, Duo," he says contritely as I realise that my right arm has been firmly bandaged across my chest so my fingers are resting on the opposite shoulder. "You twisted your shoulder quite badly so we had to strap it up. Wufei thinks you might have broken your collarbone too but we can't go anywhere to get it x-rayed just yet."

I can only sigh at the damage to my already battered body. "So have we moved safe houses?" I ask, thinking about what Quatre has told me as I wince at the pain in my mutilated vocal cords. I think I remember screaming…

"Yes, we left straight after the attack on you," he says, holding a glass of water to my lips and allowing me to drink greedily, "We've been here three days now."

"Three days? I've been asleep for three days?"

"You needed rest," he replies, for all the world sounding like Heero.

With my one good arm I reach up and touch my hair, realising it is no longer caked in mud, which is how I remember it. Quatre sees me doing this and explains the transformation. "We cleaned you up as soon as we arrived here," he says before he suddenly sounds sheepish. "I had a go at re-braiding your hair but I'm afraid I didn't make a very good job of it."

"You should have got Heero to do it," I say with a smile but Quatre doesn't respond. My smile fades as his silence tells me that that's exactly what he tried to do. "He wouldn't do it would he?" I say quietly.

"He's upset," Quatre replies, avoiding the question with this statement. "He thought he was going to lose you. We all did."

I suddenly feel like a naughty schoolboy who is causing my friends untold grief. In the Heero versus Howard contest, it is I that's scored the next point in Howard's favour, as plainly my fellow pilots would be better off without me.

"So where are the others?" I ask, no longer wanting to be occupied by my thoughts.

Quatre stands and begins to arrange my bed covers. "Trowa and Heero went back to Howard's to fetch Wing and Heavyarms now they're ready. Wufei is out getting supplies and checking out the local area."

"So you get the job of nurse, huh?"

"I don't mind, Duo," Quatre replies, although he sounds a little defensive as he straightens the pillows under my head. "We all care about you so you don't have to make it sound like a chore."

There I go again, upsetting the people closest to me. "I'm sorry, Quatre," I say, wishing I could convey my feelings through eye contact and gesture, but realising I have use of neither. "For everything I mean."

"I know," he replies softly, forgiveness an action that comes easy to my gentle friend. "And I'm sorry too."

"What for?" I ask, surprised.

"For leaving you out of important discussions and talking _about_ you rather than _to_ you."

I offer him a smile but I'm not going to deny that it hurt. "That's okay."

"No it's not," Quatre says more firmly this time and I sense his need to unburden this guilt. "Please understand we never did it maliciously, we just thought talking about missions in front of you might be too painful."

"More painful than feeling ostracised by my friends?" I said, more harshly than I'd intended. Quatre doesn't respond and I instantly feel bad. "I'm sorry, that was unfair of me," I say remorsefully.

I realise that I am in danger of alienating myself from the one person that would never intentionally hurt me and instantly know that I need to make it right. "Can we call it quits?" I ask hopefully and am relieved as Quatre takes up my one free hand and squeezes it between his delicate digits.

"Definitely," he says, his smile evident in his voice. "You're as much a part of us now as you were before and I promise I won't ever forget that again."

I almost tell Quatre about Howard's offer but I decide to stay silent. He has this habit of taking the blame for everything and I don't want him to think I might be going to live with Howard because of something he'd done. I hate it when things get deep like this so I endeavour to lighten the moment. "So you don't mind looking after me?" I ask, a hint of mischief in my voice.

"No," Quatre says slowly sensing that he's about to be had.

"Great!" I say with a laugh, "Then I'll have a huge bowl of ice cream please. With chocolate sprinkles," I add as an afterthought.

Quatre giggles. "I'd love to oblige, Duo, but we've hardly got any food in the house until Wufei returns."

I pout appropriately; an expression I have perfected for when I want to get my own way. That quickly changes to a look of horror when Quatre offers me some muesli by way of consolation.

"Okay, since food's off the menu," I say, winking at my unintentional pun, "I think I'll get dressed instead."

I can tell Quatre wants to dispute my plans but he remains silent, evidently feeling our friendship is too tenuous at the moment to risk the argument. Instead he says, "well okay, but if anyone says anything I'm gonna tell them I tried to stop you but you overpowered me."

"Deal," I say, laughing as I swing my legs out of bed.

I keep the mood light-hearted by jabbering like an idiot to keep embarrassment away as Quatre helps me into some clean boxers and a pair of jogging pants. Insane isn't it? We're both in homosexual relationships and yet we can't do something like this without turning as pink as newborn babies. Quatre then offers me a choice of jumpers and I choose a navy blue hooded top, which he pulls over my head, turning the redundant sleeve inside out. I feel strangely vulnerable with one arm strapped tightly to my body; perhaps even moreso than when I discovered I was blind. I know that might seem very weird but to be honest, nothing surprises me anymore. Before we head downstairs, Quatre gives me a couple of pain killers, which I hope will start working soon since all my ailments are competing with each other to cause me the most grief.

As Quatre leads me out of the room I insist on feeling my way around the whole of the upper floor. Maybe it's the thought of coming so close to death and being denied it, but I think that if I'm not going to meet my maker just yet then I'd better start making the most of life, namely snatching back a little of my independence. The Arabian is wonderfully patient as I grope about, questioning him on which doors lead where. When I think I have an adequate mental map formed, I allow him to point me in the direction of the stairs. I let him lead as the thought of falling on the steps with a possible broken collarbone and a twisted shoulder does not bode well. The air would turn blue and Quatre may well combust under the pressure of hearing so many words that he wouldn't dare think let alone say.

At the bottom of the stairs, I go through the same process; feeling my way around as Quatre provides a running commentary of everything I lay my one good hand on. As sad as it may seem, by the time I've done that I'm worn out and in need of a sit down. Quatre joins me on the threadbare couch and hands me a can of cola, which I accept gratefully, glad there's _something_ in the cupboard for me, a child of the junk food generation. Since we're alone in the house, I decided to ask as much as possible about Heero to see if I can gauge how much damage the incident at the last safe house has done.

"Where would you put him on a scale of one to ten?" I ask Quatre when we're both settled, "If one is calm and ten is hide all firearms."

There's a pause. "Eleven." Quatre says reluctantly.

I shake my head. "Why's he so worried?" I wonder out loud until I settle on a memory, which locks it all into place.

Way back when, when Heero Yuy was nothing more than a name in a history book and Deathscythe still had that 'new gundam' smell and zero mileage on the clock, I spent some time in a home for troubled adolescents on L-2. I was sent there after probably my hundredth arrest for stealing, when the law were sick of seeing my face in court, but I was still too young to be sent to 'proper' adult prison. To be honest, despite the fact that the home was supposed to be secure, I could have left any time I liked (sub-standard window locks you know) but I stayed, purely because the food wasn't bad and the beds weren't lumpy. The Maxwell Church had been razed to the ground twelve months previously and I'd grown tired of begging and stealing to survive so I let them commit me. The downside to having a full stomach and a well-rested body was I had to sit through endless therapy sessions with shrinks that tried to understand me. Everything had meaning, from my clothes to how I grew my hair and it took a while to get used to going about my daily business with several people following me around writing things on clipboards. Paranoid? You would be.

Eventually, after several months of analysis, they decided on a diagnosis. Mania, possibly as a component of manic depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, suicide risk but best of all, the tendency towards psychotic behaviour. That last part raised the game several notches and I realised that I had to leave before they assigned me to quarters that really were secure. Personally, I found the whole episode rather funny but Heero begged to differ when he came across those little gems of information. It happened when we were barely acquainted; I'd shot him, we'd jumped thirty storeys from a skyscraper together; you know, the usual stuff. The instant bond we shared obviously unnerved Heero enough for him to do a little checking about me but since I'd lived most of my life in the shadows on L-2, there wasn't much on file. Other than a brief stay at 'Sunnyview', the home for 'behaviourally challenged and mentally unsettled adolescents' of course.

Anyway, I can see how Heero would be concerned about my mental stability since that's all he really knows about me. He's never actually told me that he hacked my file to find that stuff out but I'm not stupid. Besides, the rather nifty alert I'd installed to tell me if my file had been accessed confirmed my suspicions about why Heero had started to watch me very closely whenever we were together. Maybe I _am _mental; maybe the fact that I find the diagnosis so amusing is because I lack the insight to understand that I _am_ disturbed. Phew, that train of thought is a bit of a head-trip!

I'm glad, therefore that Quatre is there occupy my mind with conversation and he does so, by telling me a bit about what has been happening over the last three days. He and Wufei had had a couple missions during which Trowa was left behind to watch me until Howard had sent word that Heavyarms and Wing were ready. Heero it seems, had stayed away from our newest safe house until it was time to collect the gundams. I ask where my lover had stayed during that time, but Quatre explains that Heero never made contact, other than a brief phone call to say he was safe.

"Did he ask about me?" I say, not sure I really want to know the answer.

"I don't know, Wufei took the call."

"I see," I reply, worried that this is heralding the return of the old, disassociated Heero Yuy. My fault, of course. "So is he coming back with Trowa?"

"I don't know. I hope so," Quatre adds quickly, "Maybe Trowa can talk some sense into him."

I hope so too, but I pray that Trowa doesn't tell Heero about Howard's offer. I want to see if we can rescue this relationship without that added complication hanging over us. As we talk a little about new developments in the war, Wufei returns from his part shopping, part reconnaissance expedition. Quatre goes to help him unpack the shopping bags but I follow too, utilising the mental map I have made of the lower floor. Wufei is surprised to see me up and about but I don't spend too long dwelling on which parts of my anatomy are giving me the most pain. Instead I come straight to the point and ask him to do me a favour. Wufei asks what I want him to do and I tell him. I want him to train me.

Let me explain a little. What I've asked Wufei to do involved a considerable climb down on my part. Not long after we first got together as a group Wufei offered to train us both spiritually and physically, claiming that harmony between mind and body would allow us to surpass our own abilities. He claimed (to snorts of derision from me I'm ashamed to say) that we could train ourselves to fight without having to rely on mere mortal sentience. Translated from 'Wufei-speak' that meant we could engage in stealth missions and hand-to-hand combat with instincts that would outstrip even our finely-tuned senses. Hearing and most importantly of all, sight would be practically redundant with our new found skills.

I was sceptical as you are probably now, only I was less polite about it. I openly laughed at his ideas, my street fighting style of combat knowing no other way than to attack what you saw in front of you. How could you manage without sight? That was just crazy, a sure-fire recipe for a date with death!

Anyway, if Wufei was hurt by my 'doubting Thomas' attitude then he didn't show it but needless to say he never offered again. But now I am asking him to repeat that offer to me, the fool that didn't take up the chance to learn such skills until they became a necessity rather than option. I wouldn't blame him for refusing, but instead he warns me of the hard work that's involved.

"You need motivation," he says with the deadly seriousness that is my Chinese friend's trademark.

I point to my eyes. "I have motivation," I reply, with no trace of humour.

"Very well," he says. "As soon as your shoulder's healed we'll begin but I promise you it's not an easy art to master."

The slight edge of doubt in his voice makes me all the more determined. I don't blame him for thinking ill of me; after all he's lived with me and my negligible attention span for long enough, but I am determined to prove him wrong this time. "Thank you, Wufei," I say with all sincerity.

Our moment of unity is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing. Quatre goes out first and I hear him greet Trowa with a hug and a polite yet affectionate kiss. Just as I think Trowa must have returned alone, I hear Quatre offer a more restrained welcome to someone whose name causes my heart to want to leap from my chest and high-tail it out of the open kitchen window.

Heero is back.

TBC…


	6. Without the Presence of Love

**Author's note: Sorry, guys. I think I forgot to update yesterday! Ah well, here's the next instalment. **

Warnings: bad language, angst, 1x2 action.

Til the Clouds Roll By

Part 6 – Without the Presence of Love.

Heero is back. Here. _En la casa_.

I stand in the kitchen for a moment with Wufei whilst Quatre makes small talk with Heero and Trowa about the gundams. There's a brief pause before Heero says, "How's Duo?"

"I'm fine," I reply, emerging from the kitchen, left hand ghosting the wall for support with Wufei closely behind me.

I can picture the scene in my head. Heero looks at Quatre, Quatre shrugs in defeat and prays that Heero is in a good mood.

We _all_ pray that Heero is in a good mood.

"Trowa, Wufei," Quatre says, managing extremely well to disguise the anxiety in his voice, "Let's go and decide what we're having for dinner."

I step out of the doorway to allow the others past, leaving Heero and me alone in the hallway. I stand there for what feels like an eternity, cursing that I cannot see the expression on his face as neither of us speak. I'm guessing it's impassiveness, but for obvious reasons I can't be sure.

I decide to end this Mexican standoff. "Can we talk?" I say, shifting slightly and wishing Quatre had given me stronger painkillers as my shoulder is starting to throb.

"Fine," comes the reply and I inwardly cringe at the repressed anger in his voice. "But not here."

I nod my assent and allow Heero to lead me outside. There is no wooden porch like at the last safe house, but what lies beyond the four walls is even more amazing. I can't believe my sharp ears never noticed the roar of the ocean, which lies here on our doorstep, beating against the rocks of our cliff side home. Heero's grip on my arm is firmer now as my feet touch the craggy ground and I know, despite the fact that our terrain is pretty dangerous for a blind person to negotiate, he will not let me fall. Eventually he stops and indicates for me to sit, easing me to the ground to prevent me jolting my damaged shoulder during the movement.

He sits down beside me, although not as close as I would have liked and for several long moments there is no sound other than the ebb and flow of the early evening tide many feet below us. Once again, it is I that breaks the silence.

"Tell me what it's like," I say.

"Huh?"

"The view. Tell me what it's like."

Heero pauses. "We're on top of a cliff," he says without any attempt to romanticise about the incredible scenery that God has provided.

"Really?" I say in mock surprise, rolling my eyes although I suppose I shouldn't have expected any more from 'Mr Less Said The Better'. "Should I take up bungee jumping?"

"You shouldn't have done it, Duo."

My smart mouth is about to fire back a response but I hold it in check. Heero wants to talk serious and I am wise enough to stop jesting, knowing he will only try once. "I'm sorry," I say, hoping he will realise my obvious remorse.

"Sorry? You pull a stunt like that and you're _sorry_?"

Any response is cut short by a stab of pain in my shoulder, which causes me to wince. Heero notices it, like he never misses any reaction no matter how subtle. "Are you okay?" he asks, although the tenderness is absent from his voice.

"I'm fine," I say through gritted teeth as I clutch the damaged appendage. I really don't need this now and I'm surprised it's still so painful since it's had three days rest. I wait until the pain eases before I turn back to face him. "What exactly do you want me to say if sorry isn't good enough? I _am_ sorry but I can't make you accept my apology, can I?"

The ball is now in his court, the next move up to him. He duly responds, allowing a little of the anger inside him to seep into his voice. "How do you think it feels, Duo, to witness you inviting your own death?"

"Pretty much the same as when I watched you self-destruct I guess," I reply, irritated by Heero's condescending attitude. I do want to make things better but I can't help but get annoyed when he talks to me like this. I'm sure he forgets we're the same age sometimes, although in terms of life experience I reckon I'm way ahead of him.

"Look, I can't take back what I've done," I say trying to reason with him, "I was angry and I wasn't thinking straight. I heard you all talking about me and just felt so useless. When that soldier reinforced my belief I just flipped."

"We were only talking about the safest way to get you away from the safe house," he replies, sounding hurt.

"Yeah, but you were doing it _without_ me. Why couldn't you have come and got me out of bed and said 'What do you think, Duo? Have you got any good ideas?' My brain works fine, Heero," I say, tapping the side of my head. "Even if my eyes don't."

He is silent now and I know he is trying to process all this information using every ounce of his impoverished social skills. He's trying to work out how he's hurt me during the action of looking after my best interests and I know he'll be coming up blank. He just doesn't get it.

I knew what I was getting myself into falling for an emotional cripple like Heero, but I can't deny that it's hard work, leaving me questioning my taste in partners as often as I draw breath. I have to keep reminding myself than he comes across as deeply insensitive because his emotions have been forcibly removed from him. The people responsible were naïve to think that he'd never regain them but it's a slow process as the nuances of humankind continue to confound him time and time again. He still can't see anything wrong with the time Relena invited him to her birthday party and he ripped the invitation up in the poor girl's face. '_I didn't want to go_', is Heero's argument in his defence, but I've told him there are better ways to go about things like that without hurting people and turning them into first-class stalkers. And now, I am having to remind myself that he doesn't mean to hurt me like this, but I'd be lying if I said it was easy. Question is, do I want to have to keep justifying his actions when he compromises our happiness because of what he says and does without realising?

"Do you love me, Heero?" I ask after yet another long pause.

"You don't need to ask that, Duo"

"But I _am_ asking. Do you love me, Heero?"

I jump slightly as a hand touches my one free hand that is still pressed to my sore shoulder.

"Yes, of course I love you, baka."

I allow myself to smile slightly as I hear the words that would cheer the coldest of hearts. Our love might be unconventional and a far cry from any fairytale, but I want it nonetheless. I can't help but wonder what the therapists back at Sunnyview would make of my current life. That fact that I've managed to fall in love with someone who is possibly more fucked up than me would probably interest them greatly. The manic depressive, psychotic suicide risk and the emotional destitute. A love match made in Heaven!

Heero continues to caress my hand with his but I sense tenseness within him still. I have a feeling he is still worried that I will do something stupid if the opportunity arises again, but I am unsure how to convince him that I won't. Maybe that's because I would never guarantee my reactions, being the impulsive fly-by-night that I am. He knows I won't lie so he avoids asking because he fears the response. Heh, maybe I should consider a career in psychology since I have first-hand experience of being a nutcase! I shut out these thoughts to concentrate on the battles of wills we are engaged in once again.

"Just don't shut me out and accept that I need to regain some independence," I say, hoping he will understand that I am trying to help him avoid any situations that may push me towards self-harm.

"I'll try," he says with the quiet determination that makes me want to jump up and rip his clothes off like a crazed animal. My mind displays a rather pleasing image of me doing just that as the waves continue to crash on the rocks below us but then I remember I am injured and the vision bursts instantaneously. Damn, it's hard to look sexy when you're bandaged up like a mummy and your hair's been styled by 'Quatre Scissorhands'. Our 'talk' at an end, Heero stands and helps me do the same. Before we can make our way back to the house Heero comes close and puts one rough hand against my cheek.

"Just promise me you won't wander off again," he says, determined to extract at least one promise from me before this heart-to-heart is at an end.

"Promise," I repeat, nodding my head for emphasis. "But soon I'll be able to handle a similar situation if it happens again."

"Oh?" Heero replies, curiosity betraying his normally emotionless voice. "How so?"

I explain my earlier conversation with Wufei as he listens with what I hope is interest.

"That's great," he says after a pause and I feel relieved that Heero respects my fierce determination to win back some of my independence. I feel further encouraged when he takes my hand and we walk back across the cliff top like lovers taking a stroll in the early evening.

The others have already decided on our menu and the smell of vegetable stir fry greets us as we step back inside the house. They sense that our peace negotiations have been successful and as a direct result, the meal is a more light-hearted affair, the likes of which we haven't seen since before the accident. Heero is quiet and taciturn throughout, but I remind myself that even in the company of friends he finds it difficult to make trivial chitchat, which is the norm around the dinner table.

He speaks only to express his concern when I enquire about the likelihood of more painkillers. "Is your shoulder still that sore?" he asks, sounding surprised.

"Hell yes," I reply, abandoning my fork for a moment to clutch the disagreeable body part.

"Maybe you did break something," Quatre adds. "Hopefully we'll be able to get you to a hospital soon."

"Yeah," I mutter as Heero presses a couple more pills into my left hand. I swallow them quickly and will them to start working soon. They must have been different from the last ones Quatre gave me as before long, I am feeling seriously sleepy and I am only vaguely aware when, soon after, Heero is carrying me up to bed. In my stupor I mutter something about him getting in bed with me but he tries to resist, citing my damaged shoulder as the reason we should sleep in separate beds. However, my free hand is gripping his shirt so tightly he has little choice but to climb in with me and hope that as I drift into a deeper slumber my purchase on his clothing will loosen enough to allow him to escape.

But despite the drugs, I have no intention of that happening. Before long, I am caressing him in the manner that indicates I have love on my mind and although his mind may be protesting, his body gives in to the pleasure I am offering as my touch moves lower. Half asleep, and with my only available hand, I bring him to release before he does the same for me. Only then do I allow myself to drift off to sleep, which, despite the resulting stickiness, is the most relaxing I have experienced for a long time.

I awake to find Heero moving about the room. His actions and the tone of his voice when he speaks hint at agitation. "Good, you're awake," he says as I hear him pulling on clothes. "We've been called out on a mission."

"And?" I reply, rubbing at my face sleepily and pushing myself up in bed.

"All of us," he says and for a nanosecond I think he means me as well. "So you'll be here on your own."

I attempt to shrug to show my lack of concern at this information but the pain in my shoulder cuts short the action. "Is that a problem?"

"No but I'd rather someone was here with you"

"I'm not a child, Heero," I reply, despite the fact that my chronological age begs to differ.

He sighs, an expression of emotion that he rarely allows himself. Here and now he is truly torn between his life as a soldier and his loyalty to me as his lover. He won't stay, that much is certain, but I know he is searching that big old brain of his to come up with a solution that will satisfy his worries.

"Heero," I chide, "How am I supposed to regain any independence if you won't let me alone for a minute?"

There's a pause whilst he crosses the room to where I am sat and wraps his arms around me carefully. "I'm sorry," he says nuzzling my free shoulder, his chocolate mane tickling my back as his lips graze my bare skin.

"Apology accepted," I reply huskily, aroused by the intimacy and quite happy for _him_ to stay and look after me is this is how he intends to keep me amused, but the reality is he is going off to fight and I know I have no right to stop him. He pulls away somewhat reluctantly as the sound of the others emerging from their rooms breaks the silence.

"I have to go," he says quietly.

"I know. Come back soon, Heero."

And then he is gone. I realise Heero forgot to give me my painkillers before he left so I am relieved to find them on the side next to my bed. Unfortunately I am less successful finding some water to take them with so I end up dry swallowing the two chalky tablets, grimacing as they claw their way down my throat and into my stomach. I decide that, to pass the time and ease my restlessness, I will test my mental map of the layout of the house. Yeah I know, that was a pretty crap excuse. I'm hungry, okay?

I find the tracksuit pants that Heero has left out for me and pull them on one handed before I head to the door. The house isn't particularly cold and the bandage covers my upper body pretty well so I don't bother to find a sweatshirt. As I reach the open doorway I take a few moments to focus my mind, almost as if I'm on a mission. In a sense, I guess I am and I have no intention of failing. I find the stairs quickly and make my way down to the lower floor keeping firm hold of the banister until the floor evens out beneath me.

"Round one, Duo," I announce proudly to the empty house as I continue my visualised journey through to the kitchen. Once inside my favourite room in the house, I feel my way around until the cold touch beneath my fingers indicates that I've found the refrigerator. Conveniently, someone has left a bowl of cereal out for me on the side next to the appliance and I pour the milk over the chocolate flakes, being careful not to pour too much in and feeling triumphant that this is not as difficult as I'd imagined. I leave the carton on the side - hey I did that when I could _see_ - and feel my way to the kitchen table, which is handily placed right behind me. I then turn back and pick up my breakfast, transferring it to the table with no spillage whatsoever.

"Duo scores again," I say, grinning broadly as I take my seat and prepare to demolish my meagre breakfast. The good point is I find my mouth okay. The bad point is it wasn't milk I poured on my cereal.

"Euwww," I complain out loud as I spit the mouthful back into the bowl. "Shit that's gross!" I have just learnt a vital lesson. Chocoflakes do _not_ go well with orange juice.

Giving up on a (relatively) sensible breakfast, I return to the refrigerator and root around in the colder compartment until I come across the familiar feel of my favourite treat, a huge bucket-shaped tub of ice cream. This should keep me busy until the others get back!

Actually that wasn't strictly true, and after polishing off a good three quarters of the iced dessert in no time at all I am bored once again. It is then that I remember Heero telling me that Sally had called for me several days ago, when we were still at the last safe house. Boredom piques my curiosity and I decide to return her call, praying that she is available so I don't have to spend the rest of the day wondering what she wanted.

As luck would have it, she answers on the second ring after I have dialled her number on my cel phone, which Heero had thoughtfully tucked into the pocket of my track pants.

"Duo!" she says sounding both relieved and surprised. "At last!"

"Hey Sally," I reply, visualising the tall, confident woman on the other end of the phone. "Heero said you'd rung for me."

"Yeah, about four days ago! Where've you been?"

"We had a few problems but they were sorted, thanks to your excellent info of course. Now what can I do for you?"

"Well," she says and I hear the rustling of papers in the background, "I have some information that I thought might interest you." There's a pause and for a second I think the connection has broken up. "But I don't want to get your hopes up unfairly."

A thousand possibilities race through my mind about what she is about to say and I can barely find enough voice to say, "Shoot. I'm listening."

"Okay," she says and I can sense uncertainty in her voice about what she saying. "I ran a few tests after you were here last time and I found out some interesting things about you, Duo."

"Really?" I reply, not sure whether I should be worried or not. "You're not gonna tell me I've got some life-threatening disease are you 'cause I've really got enough on my plate right now…"

"No, nothing like that," she replies, quick to quell my over-active imagination. "It's relating to your immune system. Tell me, Duo, have you noticed that you take a long time to get over illnesses and injuries?"

I think about it for a moment. "I guess so but I've never really given it much thought. Why d'you ask?"

"Well, it seems you have a slow reacting immune system. Unbelievably slow in fact." She pauses for a moment. "You mentioned briefly being exposed to a virus back on L-2 when you were a child. I did some research on that virus and I think it could have something to do with that."

"But I was immune to it."

"Maybe," she replies, "but I think that could have been responsible for draining your immune system and now your healing reactions are severely retarded."

"I see," I say, shifting slightly, "Well that would explain my shoulder."

"What's wrong with your shoulder?"

"Twisted. It's a long story."

"Is it taking a while to heal?"

"Yeah. It still feels as if I only did it ten minutes ago."

She makes a noise to indicate this news is interesting to her and I allow her to muse for a second before I speak again. "So what exactly does this all mean?"

She breathes hard. "Like I said, I don't want to get your hopes up but…"

"But what?"

"But it may mean your blindness isn't permanent."

I am too stunned to respond so Sally fills the void with her proposed explanation. "Your loss of sight is as a result of a head injury which caused a swelling that is pressing on your optic nerves. In a normal person, the swelling would have gone down by now leading to the conclusion that the damage was permanent. In your case, it may be that your body is still healing, just very, very slowly."

This is a lot of information to process and I can only begin to understand what will mean for me. The good doctor appreciates what will be running through my mind right now and in response she says warningly, "I may be wrong, Duo, which is why I wasn't sure whether to tell you or not."

"No, that's okay," I say vaguely, "I'm glad you told me. Thanks, Sally."

"My pleasure, Duo. I just hope I've been the bringer of good tidings."

"Me too. And Sally?"

"Yes?"

"I'd appreciate if you didn't mention this to the others just yet."

"No problem. Speak to you soon, Duo. And take care."

I hang up the phone and spend several minutes just standing and thinking. I think about Heero and what this means for us. I know Sally said there might be a chance she's wrong but I wouldn't be human if I didn't hope. Despite the voice of reason telling me otherwise, I decide I want to tell Heero now this second. Yeah, my voice of reason has a hard time competing with my impulsivity, which obviously owns a megaphone. To do this though, I need my laptop.

I head for the stairs, my journey interrupted momentarily as I crack my shin on the coffee table, that in my excitement, I'd forgotten all about. A quick rub and curse later and I'm in mine and Heero's room groping around for my laptop, which has lain untouched since the accident. On it, I have installed a programme that lets me link directly with Wing's cockpit. Heero didn't approve because he said I could spy on him (which initially I did for fun) but since he installed an alarm to let him know when I was using it, he hasn't threatened me with death or anything. I turn on the slightly battered machine and boot up Windows 195. This part is easy, especially as I have set everything up to be voice activated.

"Run Wing Link," I say in a clear voice, praying that Heero won't be in the middle of an attack or something. That would _seriously _piss him off. There is a bleep to say the connection is active and if I had my sight, Heero's face would appear on the monitor but instead I have to content myself with sound only.

I quickly realise that Heero hasn't noticed that I've joined him and am about to announce my presence when he starts to speak to someone. It doesn't take a genius to work out that Heero is mad about something.

"Well you're wrong," he says sharply, "Don't assume you know me so well, Wufei."

So it's Wufei he's angry at. I consider again speaking up as Heero would be annoyed if he thought I was spying on him, but Wufei responds to this statement before I can vocalise some kind of greeting.

"You shouldn't treat him like a child, Heero. He has every right to make a life for himself whatever the circumstance."

Oh God, they're talking about me. I _know_ it.

"I'm not treating him like a child," Heero snaps back, "If anything, that's what you're guilty of, getting his hopes up that he'll be able to fight hand-to-hand without sight."

"Are you jealous, Heero?" Wufei asks, by no means intimidated by the frost in Heero's voice. "Are you worried because someone can do something for him that you can't? Or do you just like the fact that you can keep him locked up at home and away from the war?"

Before Heero can respond, I've closed the link. I don't want to hear any more because quite frankly the damage has been done. I've always said that I thought Heero would be the one who killed me, but I never thought he'd be the one to betray me like this. Anger rises and with it comes hurt. Everything that happened yesterday; our heart-to-heart talk, our intimacy later on, it was all a pretence - a poor imitation of love.

I make a snap decision and grab my phone out of my pocket, dialling the familiar number as fast as my shaking hands will allow.

"Come on, come on," I complain impatiently as I wait for the call to be answered. When it is, the conversation is short but not so sweet.

"Howard? It's Duo. I've made my mind up, I want to rejoin you and the Sweepers. Can you send someone for me because I'm here on my own and need to be gone before the others are back. – pause - It's a long story. – pause - I don't know the location of this safe house but there's a tracker on Deathscythe that's linked to my laptop. You can use that to find me. – pause - Thanks man, you don't know how grateful I am. See you soon."

Maybe a more rational person wouldn't have reacted so impulsively, but being rational is not a trait I will be remembered for when I'm dead. I don't want to be around someone who says one thing to my face and does something else behind my back, especially when that someone is supposed to be my lover, my confidant, my soulmate. So there it is.

I'm leaving.

TBC…


	7. But The Sun Can Shine Again

**Author's note: Thanks again for all your great reviews! Swordy.**

Warnings: bad language, angst, 1x2 action.

Part 7 – But The Sun Can Shine Again.

Five minutes after Howard has called back to say he has my location and someone will be there in three quarters of an hour, I am making my hasty preparations to leave. Whether it is the pain of unbandaging my arm so that I could dress properly or the pain of realising that my love has betrayed me with his words, but I am unable to stop the tears from flowing, even though I know one of Howard's men will be here soon.

I have packed my laptop, grabbed clothes (although I'm not sure whether they are mine or Heero's) and the bottle of painkillers from the bedside table and shoved them all into a canvas bag I found under my bed. In there too I pack the talking clock and sunglasses; gifts from a friend who showed far more understanding than Heero himself. I know Quatre will be upset that I've gone but I cannot stay around for him, or Trowa, or Wufei. Heero was the one I needed reassurance from and when he finally gave it to me, it turned out to be completely worthless.

It's ironic I know that I intend to leave when I have been given a glimmer of hope but Heero doesn't know that. To him, I am still the little blind boyfriend who entertains these crazy notions of trying to resume some semblance of a normal life. I feel humiliated by his actions and putting distance between us is the only way I can think to alleviate my indignity. I can go and work for Howard and if my sight returns then great, I have Deathscythe there and ready to take back into battle, alone this time.

I decide I need to leave a note. Don't get me wrong, I don't feel I need to give Heero an explanation for why I've gone; I just want to vent a little anger whilst the emotion is raw within me. Finding pen and paper isn't too hard, but it takes several long moments before I even begin to put any of my feelings down on the page and when I do, I very much doubt they're easily readable since I can't see what I'm doing and I'm writing with my left hand. By the time I've finished, I hope the note reads something like this:

_Dear Heero,_

_I'm guessing you've noticed that I've gone now and I know you'll be thinking that Oz has got me but you're wrong. I'm not here because I've chosen to leave. I'm sure you'll think you deserve an explanation but since you couldn't be honest with me, I don't feel the need for such courtesies. Maybe we can talk about it in the future but right now I'm too angry to think straight. I thought I had your heart Heero but all really got was your doubt and disapproval._

_Yours,_

_Duo.___

_P.S. Your Wing Link alarm doesn't seem to be working…_

I finish the note and mentally re-read it as best I can. It probably looks a real mess; written with my non-dominant hand and stained with tears. Heero will probably have a hell of a time recognising it as writing before he even gets to the slightly cryptic message, but that's not for me to concern myself with.

I leave the note on my vacated bed, grab the bag I've packed and head to the door to await my ride. I know I probably look a state since angst does terrible things for your appearance so to counteract my swollen eyes, I root in the bag for my dark glasses and put them on. Since I'm having to use my good hand to carry my bag, my damaged right arm is responsible for feeling my way around, although every movement makes me want to curse very loudly, and I do with no one around to voice their disapproval at my choice of language.

The stairs will prove to be something of a challenge since my weak arm is too painful to hold the banister and I contemplate whether I should throw my bag down the stairs so I can safely join it at the bottom. I am in the process of making this decision when the sound of a car approaching draws my attention. I wait and listen as the engine shuts off and footsteps can be heard on the driveway outside. Involuntarily I tense, inwardly cursing that my knife and gun are packed in my bag and not to hand if, as I fear, Oz have found us again. Another equally unpleasant scenario crosses my mind; the others have arrived home. Fortunately neither of those situations are the reality as a voice outside the house calls my name.

"Duo? It's Tyler. I'm here to pick you up. Are you ready?"

Every inch of me relaxes as the name and the voice registers as a non-threat. "Come in!" I yell, hoping Tyler can hear me from the top of the stairs.

Evidently he has as the door opens and the footsteps grow louder.

"Hey, Duo!" Tyler says as he heads in my direction. "Whatcha doing?"

I grin, mentally thanking Howard for sending Tyler to pick me up. The man has a perpetual smile and good nature, which is what I need right now. "Good timing, you can carry my bag."

The older man strides up the stairs to meet me and takes the holdall from my one good hand. "You okay, Duo?" he says, observing my stance where I am holding my right arm against my chest.

"Twisted shoulder, possible broken collar bone," I say casually as the pain is forced back by the pills I have just taken. "I've had worse."

Tyler laughs, fully aware this is true. "Yeah well, take it easy down them stairs. Howard would kill me if you went adding to that list while you're with me."

Despite my reddened eyes and leaden heart I can't help but laugh. Tyler and I became firm friends when I first joined up with Howard and the Sweepers. Despite an age difference of at least ten years, Tyler's boundless sense of fun meant that we were destined to enjoy each other's company. That and the fact that we both know what it's like to exist off other people's leftovers scavenged from trashcans. From what he has told me, he's led a similar life to me on the streets of L-3 and as a result, he is as wise in the ways of hustling, cheating and stealing as I. He could fix a card game with a slight of hand the likes of which I've never seen before and charm people, women in particular, with his easy manner and ready wit.

With his superior intellect and unlimited resourcefulness he would make an excellent gundam pilot but for the fact that he enjoys coming and going as he pleases and makes a strong point of shunning any extra responsibility that comes his way. He has a habit of going AWOL, particularly when the Sweepers are Earthside, but Howard always welcomes him back, knowing that his technical expertise are invaluable during the conflict. He is clearly very much with the Sweepers at the moment since Howard has delegated the job of picking me up to him.

"So how've you been, Tyler?" I ask as we walk out to the car together, glad that I don't have the option to look back as I walk away from the house.

He laughs again, a typical response. "Oh you know," he says, "working hard, keeping busy."

I raise my eyebrow. "No women on the scene?"

"That's _why_ I'm working hard. Seems she took exception to me taking a couple of her friends out while she was at work. Apparently her brothers want a friendly chat about it next time they see me. _Big bastards _too."

I laugh and shake my head at these typical Tyler-like antics, wondering for not the first time whether my friend has ever heard of monogamy. 'A woman in every port' is a concept that Tyler lives by and sees no problem with. I am still laughing as he guides me to stand by the car as he takes my bag round to the trunk and drops it in.

"So what are we in?" I ask, curious to know what car he has brought to pick me up as I touch the bodywork.

"You're kidding right?" he replies as he takes me to the front of the car and directs my one good hand down to the grill. My fingers move around until my frown of confusion is replaced by a look of recognition as I identify the shape of a running horse fashioned in the metal.

"This isn't?"

"Yup"

"_Molly?_"

"The one and only," he announces proudly.

'Molly' was, or rather is, an old Ford Mustang that Tyler and I rescued from a scrapyard while doing some salvaging work for Howard. We saw the old battered wreck and decided then and there that we were going to sneak it back on the ship and restore it as a pet project. I remember reading in the history books at one of the schools we enrolled in about the Model T Ford so I'd heard of the name and presumed it must be valuable.

Howard was decidedly unimpressed when he came across the junk, claiming that with our combined lousy attention spans, the car would never become drivable and therefore just take up valuable space aboard the ship. We argued black is white until Howard gave up and allowed us to keep the car, which affectionately became known as 'Molly'. However Howard proved as perceptive as always and, when I left the Sweepers to go it alone, Molly was still languishing on blocks, as rusty and stationary as she always had been. The fact that Tyler has arrived to pick me up in her leaves me speechless and I stand dumbly for a moment running my hand across the bodywork as if I have been given the opportunity to touch a sacred artefact. Another memory breaks through my consciousness and I grin. "Hey, what colour did you paint her?"

Tyler chuckles, as he knows where this conversation is heading.

"Classic Red"

"Now I _know_ you're bullshitting me," I reply shaking my head.

Full-blown laughter follows and I think maybe I should explain this private joke. Back when we first acquired Molly we did as dreamers often do, and started discussing the paintwork long before a single spanner had been lifted to make the car drivable. I had stated that Classic Red was the only conceivable colour whereas Tyler had designs on painting our baby a rather lurid shade of yellow. It became a bit of a running joke with us shouting our choice of colour at each other whenever our paths crossed, but since we gave up on fixing Molly, the need for a final decision never arose. Tyler could of course be lying (and the car actually be banana yellow) but I sense that he wouldn't take advantage of my disability in that way and I feel touched that he relented in the end. Before sentimentality can set in, I tap the bonnet decisively. "Shall we go then?" I say, eager to be away from the safe house in case I do something insane and change my mind as delving into nostalgia will inevitably lead to thoughts of Heero.

"You're the boss," Tyler replies, and the muffled quality of his voice tells me he is in the process of lighting a cigarette at the same time.

I climb into the car and successfully find the seatbelt and click it shut. Tyler does the same before he puts the key in the ignition and fires the engine. It roars into life like a tiger before settling down to purr like a kitten.

"Nice," I say, genuinely impressed as I pull my braid over my shoulder with my one good hand.

"I thought so too," he replies before there is a brief silence, which Tyler is first to break. "Want me to ask if you're sure you know what you're doing?"

"No," I answer truthfully. "Let's just go"

"No problem," he replies as he floors the pedal transforming the car back into a tiger, which leaps forward and darts away from the house.

Whether it is being on the open road with good company or just the fact that I have finally taken control of my life but I start to feel an enormous sense of freedom. We talk and laugh about the things we used to get up to and I realise that I am looking forward to doing them again. For the first time in a long while, I feel like my blindness doesn't matter and for a moment, I forget that Sally has now told me I might not always be this way. When I do remember I consider telling Tyler, but I decide that if it happens, it happens; no point getting other people's hopes up too.

Tyler tells me the Sweepers' vessel has moved since me and Trowa stopped by. It's docked further down the coast, away from an Alliance base that's seen an increase in activity recently. Apparently, Heero had been in touch to inform Howard the base was targeted for attack and that they should move. More information I wasn't privy to I guess. Tyler then informs me that we have to collect some salvage from a guy who recently managed to infiltrate said base before we return to the ship. We chat some more and before we know it, we've arrived at our first stop.

"D'you want me to stay here?" I say, trying to stretch in the confined space.

"No, no," Tyler replies as he shuts off the engine and opens the car door, "Bryn doesn't get much company so he usually insists I stay for a drink or three. Come on, he'd love to meet a real bone fide gundam pilot."

"Ex-gundam pilot," I remind him.

"Nonsense. You'll always be a pilot, it's in your blood."

I smile as the car door shuts, indicating that Tyler is not prepared to hear any more arguments to the contrary. I make after him, groping my way around the car until I am stood beside him on this slightly chilly October morning. When he has finished lighting a fresh cigarette he offers me his arm, which I take hold of lightly before he starts to walk away from the car. Tyler continues to speak as we walk, telling me about the town we are in and the man we are going to see. Bryn Fletcher is an old associate of Howard's who specialises in obtaining enemy parts. He recently got in touch to say he had acquired some parts used in the production of mobile doll artificial intelligence and needless to say, Howard and the Sweepers were very interested.

Tyler informs me we've reached Bryn's local haunt; a bar called 'Chasers' located in the heart of this slightly run down community, and we enter to be greeted by the publican who recognises Tyler immediately.

"Hey, Spanner," he says cheerily, using the moniker Tyler is often known by amongst his peers, "Bryn said you were coming but he's not here yet. Now what can I get you both?"

"Beer thanks," Tyler replies, "Duo?"

"Same please."

"Okay," the barkeep answers, "take the corner booth, I'll bring them over."

We have not been waiting long before our contact arrives. He makes his way over to our table, setting his drink down and taking the seat opposite Tyler and me. The greetings are brief before Tyler introduces me as his companion, but giving only my first name. I hold my good hand out and Bryn takes it and shakes it firmly.

"Good to meet you, boy," he says before he addresses Tyler again. "Man is he a cool customer or what? Wearing sunglasses in a dingy place like this!"

"He got injured, he has a problem with his eyes."

Understatement of the year I know, but I'm grateful for Tyler not making a fuss about my problems as after all, I'm not here for sympathy.

"Bad luck, son," Bryn says and I nod my head in response, sensing his sincerity.

Talk then turns to business and eventually money changes hands. Tyler is about to go and buy another round of drinks when someone enters the bar, not panicked but certainly agitated.

"Oz is here," the man announces, sounding a little out of breath. "The bastards are up to something I swear."

"Shit," says the voice at my shoulder and realise Tyler has returned to the table. "We should get out of here. Bryn?" he says addressing the man sat opposite me, "Shall we go and get these parts so we can go?"

"Sure thing," the older man says, standing up and stretching, evidently not too anxious by the news just delivered.

"Duo," Tyler says addressing me, "Maybe you should tuck your hair down the back of your jacket, since Oz know your identity now."

"Identity?" Bryn questions.

"Duo's a gundam pilot."

"No shit, _really_?" our contact replies in awe and I know his eyes will be travelling up and down my slight, waif-like form as is always the case when people find out who I am and what I do. "Well I guess we really had better get out of here," he says more serious now, "I can't have a pilot getting hurt while he's with me."

With a little help from Tyler I do as he has suggested and conceal my braid in my clothing. Both Tyler and Bryn then check their weapons and we prepare to leave. Strangely, I feel more vulnerable being unarmed than I do being blind and, as if Tyler has somehow read my thoughts, he presses a small knife into my hand.

"Just in case," he says and there is no humour in his voice. I can only nod by reply.

Bryn doesn't seem to notice me holding onto Tyler's sleeve as we head out onto the streets or if he has noticed, he doesn't comment on it. The streets seem to have come alive with the news of Oz's unexpected arrival and we move quickly through the crowds, following Bryn to his base. For my benefit, Tyler describes the scenes before us, commenting on the presence of troops and several mobile suits as we push on past confused and frightened citizens, who cling each other for support and reassurance.

Tyler swears, and it quickly becomes obvious from his frustrated exclamation that all routes away from the town's square have been sealed off by troops. In short, we're trapped. Before we can form any plan of escape, a commanding voice booms out across the wind-chilled plaza.

"People of Lyndberg, we request your cooperation in this matter. We suspect our base is about to come attack from the gundams and as a result we fear for your safety. Please follow our troops and make your way into the church where we can protect you sufficiently. No one is to leave until we say it is safe to do so. Thank you."

Tyler turns and addresses me directly. "What d'you make of that?" he asks doubtfully.

"Not much," I reply, "So what do we do now?"

There's silence as Tyler pauses to consider our options. "I think we should do as they say."

"_What_?"

"It's too dangerous to get separated from the crowd. If we try to get away there's more chance that they'll see you and recognise you."

I sigh, knowing he's right but hating the situation I am putting them in. "Whatever," I say, unprepared to verbally assent to his plan.

And so we start to walk, following the flow of people to the church located on the other side of the square. The mood is sombre and ominous; even the civilians are suspicious of Oz's motives and they are reacting accordingly. The painkillers are starting to wear off, giving my shoulder free rein to throb viciously but despite the pain, I put my hand in my jacket pocket where my fingers come into contact with the blade Tyler has loaned me.

I pray I won't have to use it, but since a lot of my prayers have gone unanswered at the moment, I'm not sure whether God can hear me anymore…

TBC…


	8. When the Rain Finally Stops

**Author's note: Just one more chapter (after this one) and the epilogue to go! -Swordy**

Til the Clouds Roll By

Part 8 – When The Rain Finally Stops.

We're playing a waiting game. Here in the Lyndberg church we sit, surrounded by armed Oz troops who are supposedly looking after our best interests; protecting us from the gundams, the scourge of the colonies. Somewhere to my left a baby is crying but it is not alone in its anguish. Others, a lifetime away from being that babe in arms, weep quietly despite Oz's assurances that there is no reason for tears. Maybe they are afraid of the gundams but more likely they too are suspicious of Oz's motives, as am I. As a resident of Lyndberg, Bryn Fletcher is deeply mistrustful; he explains in a low voice that Oz is well aware of the many colony sympathisers within the town so their desire to protect the citizens seems dubious to say the least.

The church is cold and uncomfortable as we huddle together, waiting for something to happen, unsure exactly what that something will be, but fearing the worst. The troops move around constantly; striding up and down the rows of people and according to Tyler, they are watching us as opposed to watching _over_ us. My friend is restless and agitated and I wonder how long it will be before he attracts the attention of the Oz soldiers with his fidgeting.

From what Tyler has told me, there are six troops positioned around the nave, each bearing automatic weapons and grim expressions. The general atmosphere is tense to say the least and I am fearful, as my experience tells me that keyed up troops, particular those who have had little experience of face-to-face combat can often prove to be trigger-happy. In our huddle, and when the circulating troops are out of earshot, Bryn informs me that we would be able to hear any battles taking place at the base, so we can only assume that nothing has happened so far. In our state of confusion, we can only pray that this is a good thing, but we all agree that we need to know what is going on in order to decide if we need to act. As silence descends, I recall that my cell phone is still tucked in the pocket of my track pants and I inform Tyler and Bryn of this fact.

"Excellent," Tyler says, his voice barely more than a whisper, "pass it to me and I'll try and get a message to Howard."

I do as he asks and almost as soon as I have relinquished the device, I hear the sound of fingers on the keypad.

"Okay," he says after a pause no longer than thirty seconds, "I've sent Howard a text message to see if he can shed any light on what's going on."

We wait in anticipatory silence as the minutes tick by. The baby has stopped crying, the sound now replaced intermittent bursts of muffled conversation.

I think of something and realise I need to tell Tyler straight away. "You have turned off the…" I say but before I can finish, the phone beeps to signal an incoming message.

"Shit!" Tyler mutters, frantically trying to conceal the phone before the troops are alerted. The beeping stops but the sound of approaching footsteps grows more prominent. When I hear them pass by and fade away I let out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding.

"What does it say?" I ask when I'm sure we're safe.

Tyler duly relays the message Howard has sent. "It's true the gundams are confirmed to attack the base. He's gonna do some more checking, says he's got right on it." He lets out a quiet snort of laughter as he erases the message.

"What?" I say, puzzled.

"Howard's spelling. He spelt 'right' r-y-t-e."

I lose myself in thought as Tyler and Bryn start to converse. Tyler's last comment has perplexed me and it takes several moments before the information, like a jigsaw puzzle, rearranges itself in my mind and forms a coherent picture.

"No wait," I say, pausing in case anyone wants to warn me about an approaching enemy, "He doesn't mean 'right' as in 'right away', he means 'Ryte' as in Darius Ryte, the hacker."

A brief silence. "Shit, you're right," Tyler replies, ignoring his unintentional pun as he reprocesses Howard's message with this alternative interpretation.

"Huh?" is Bryn's response to which Tyler explains, "Darius Ryte, spelt r-y-t-e is an A-grade hacker who occasionally hooks up with the Sweepers. I'm guessing he must be there now if Howard's got him running some checks."

"Is he good?" Bryn asks, his question greeted by simultaneous snorts of laughter from Tyler and me.

"_Good_?" Tyler replies, "The man's a fucking genius!"

I nod my head in agreement, picturing the wiry twenty-three year old who operates with the handle 'Chaos'; an appropriate pseudonym considering that amount of damage he can do in cyber-space. I just hope my interpretation of Howard's message is correct and we can rely on him to find out exactly what is going on.

The minutes continue to roll by until another hour has passed. People around us are starting to get restless; the baby is crying again and I hear several older children complaining to their agitated parents that they're hungry. The adults respond anxiously, trying to placate and explain to their offspring why they cannot just walk out of here and go and find some food. Further up towards the altar, an old man is bemoaning our incarceration with deliberately sufficient volume to attract the attention of the troops. Conversation has stopped as others listen, awaiting Oz's explanation as to why we have to stay here when quite obviously there isn't anything happening.

"Listen, sir," one of the troops is saying, hoping that his attempt at respectfulness will shut the old geezer up, "We've already explained that the town is at risk…"

"Ah shit," the octogenarian snaps back, "I've seen a lifetime of crap like this, frankly I think I'm old enough to decide whether I want to put myself at risk or not!"

The altercation provides a crucial distraction to the troops as another text message comes through on my phone. This time it only vibrates as Tyler has switched the ring tone off.

"What does it say?" I ask as I pass the phone to Tyler. I'm hoping it's good news but I know damn well that won't be.

"Shit, Howard wants us to ring him. Apparently it's too complicated to explain by text."

"Is that possible?" I ask, turning my head to listen to what's going on around me.

"It will be if Granddad keeps it up," Tyler replies, referring to the old man who is still arguing with the troops.

We listen for a moment longer and to our good fortune, other disgruntled citizens begin to join in. Fearing an uprising, all the troops head to the front of the church to combine their military muscle.

"Do it now, Tyler," Bryn says, urging my friend to make the call. In response, Tyler slips off the pew beside me and lies at our feet, keeping his body and voice low. The shouting at the altar drowns out most of the ensuing conversation and I hear only snatches of words from Tyler's end of the exchange, which sounds both tense and hurried. When he has finished, he climbs back onto the seat beside me and hands me my phone.

"Well?" Bryn asks before I can voice a similar enquiry.

Tyler sighs; a long weary response to unwelcome news as he pats his clothing in the search for a cigarette. "Hell, where do I start?"

He's evidently found a cigarette as the smell of smoke fills my nostrils.

"Okay, Darius has managed to hack into Oz's systems at the Lyndberg base and uncovered a plan called 'Operation Parasite'. Apparently Oz became aware that some troops were selling mobile suit parts to outside parties and decided to check into exactly where those parts were going. They realised the Sweepers connection to the gundams and concocted a little plan to take advantage of those enterprising soldiers."

"Which was?" I ask doubtfully.

"They've released specially doctored parts."

"Whoah," Bryn says, realising where this is leading, "I didn't know!"

"Chill, Bryn," Tyler replies, irritated, "You weren't to know those parts were funky. Anyway, the parts come complete with a programme that acts like a parasite, hence the name of the operation. The programme itself is heavily encrypted; even Darius had a hell of a time finding it. Once inside a gundam it activates and lies dormant until it comes into contact with a transmitter located in the base."

"Then what happens?"

"It freezes the controls, allowing them to take complete control of the gundam."

I inhale sharply, knowing how serious this could be. "Do we know where the parts are now?"

"They've been installed. Darius has confirmed that the parasite is active."

"Okay," I say slowly, "Do we know which gundam they're in?"

"Wing," comes the hesitant reply. Tyler knows about mine and Heero's history so he's aware that this will be seriously unwelcome news.

I have to steel myself for my next question, knowing now that it is Heero in danger. Tyler's one word reply is enough to send a flood of emotions coursing through me. I know I'm still mad with Heero, but love tends to be a stronger emotion than anger and my instinct to protect my lover takes precedence.

"So what exactly is the purpose of Operation Parasite, I mean, once they have control of Wing what do they intend to do?"

Tyler lets out a long, smoke-filled breath. "They're hopeful that with a gundam alongside their mobile suits they'll be successful in destroying any other gundams in attendance."

"Oh God," I mutter, picturing the others going on the mission oblivious to this plan.

"There's more," Tyler continues, his voice leaden. "You remember how the Church withdrew their support of Oz a couple of months back? Well apparently that support was financial as well as moral and the cutback in funding has meant the cancellation of a few projects. Oz intend to win back the support of the church with this little exercise."

"But how?"

Tyler pauses, reluctant to put voice to Oz's heinous plans. When he speaks, he sounds weary. "They intend to have Wing attack this church and kill everybody inside. I mean, how could they fail to outraged by a gundam attacking innocent civilians inside a place of sanctuary?" He spits the last sentence out with pure venom-laced sarcasm. "Jesus, I didn't think even they could sink so low. Anyway, they intend to make themselves look like the heroes of the piece because they were trying to protect the innocents when the 'tragedy' occurred and thus, win back the endorsement of the Church. Neat eh?"

There is stunned silence as we process this news and for a moment, I cease to be aware of the bickering that is still going on at the front of the church. Heero is in danger, as is Quatre, Trowa, Wufei and all the people around me. "So has Howard been able to warn him?" I ask.

"No," Tyler replies, "Heero requested he remove their link to free up memory for other programmes."

"Shit," I say, mentally cursing Heero for being so efficient. There has to be an alternative but my brain is slow to find it.

"This is hopeless," Bryn mutters.

"No wait," I say, holding my hand up to halt his complaining as my brain finally engages. "There is a way to get hold of him." I tell them about the Wing Link programme although I purposely omit to explain the reason I installed it in the first place. "There's only one problem though."

"What?" Tyler asks.

"It's only accessible through my laptop, which is back in the car."

"So all we need is your laptop and then we can warn Heero not to go on this mission until the parasite can be removed?" Tyler says, getting everything clear in his head.

"In short, yes."

Silence descends once more. Probably a worse thing than having no solution is having a solution with no way to get to it. I am pulled from my musings by the sound of Tyler's voice.

"I'm gonna go."

"_What?_"

"I gonna go get your laptop. Give me your passwords and I'll go and warn Heero."

"Tyler you can't!" I say, almost forgetting to keep my voice low but unwilling to let another friend put himself in danger. "It's too risky."

"Look, if you can create a diversion I can slip away."

"No…"

"Duo, do you see any alternative?"

"No but…"

"It's settled," he says firmly, "so I suggest you turn your attentions to thinking up a diversion."

I nod in defeat before my attention is drawn back to the uprising at the altar. The old man has ceased complaining but others have taken his place. The baby is crying again, adding to the cacophony of unhappiness resonating around this holy place.

"Leave it to me," Bryn says quietly and I turn towards the sound of his voice.

"What's your plan?" Tyler asks, sounding hopeful.

"I'll go and join in with the row. Go and throw my two cents in. All that arguing is bound to play havoc with my bad heart if you know what I mean."

I imagine that comment has been punctuated with a wink, as Tyler laughs, the sound reassuring in this bleak moment. "That's good enough for me," my friend says and I hear a familiar clicking as he checks his handgun.

"Tyler…" I say, unsure what I can say to stop him from going.

"Don't worry about me," Tyler replies with heartening calmness. "You've got plenty of people here that need protecting."

Despite everything I manage a slight smile.

"Here," he says pressing a smaller gun into my hand, "take this."

"But I've got your knife."

"I know, but I'll feel better if I know you've got a gun. Now, Bryn are you ready?"

"Sure thing," the older man replies.

A hand squeezes my good shoulder firmly. "Stay safe, Duo and I'll see you soon."

"You too, Tyler," I say quietly, silently praying that it will be soon. I've heard too many friends utter similar words and never return and I don't want Tyler to end up another statistic in my short, yet eventful life. The pew creaks as Bryn stands up and as he passes in front of us, Tyler takes the opportunity to slip onto the floor.

"Wish me luck," he mutters as he moves on hands and knees to the far end of the row, away from the central aisle where he is most likely to be seen.

And then he's gone. Bryn has joined the heated discussions at the front, as I hear his gravely tones protesting loudly above the voices of his fellow townsfolk. To add credibility to his heart-attack stunt and give Tyler time to get towards an exit he has to spend several minutes joining in with this verbal tussling, seemingly getting more and more enraged by Oz's actions. As I sit, now alone on the church bench, the irony of my present situation isn't lost on me. I left Heero because I felt he couldn't give me the independence I craved but now here I am, expected to fend for myself and I don't like it one iota. Call me a hypocrite if you like but it doesn't change a thing.

I'm alone and vulnerable and yes, I'm scared.

TBC…


	9. And The Clouds Roll By

Warnings: bad language, violence, more Duo angst!

**Author's note: Nearly there now! **

Part 9 – And The Clouds Roll By.

Bryn's ruse has proved successful. There have been no cries of 'someone's getting away!' and I know that Tyler will not have wasted time in vacating the premises. I mentally offer him a silent prayer, asking God to both keep him safe and grant him speed so that he may contact Heero in time to prevent this planned massacre. Fearful that he may die while they are supposed to be offering protection, the troops have kept Bryn up front with them for observation purposes and he is quiet now, playing the role of the invalid dealing with a life-threatening incident as convincingly as possible.

The angry townsfolk are also quiet now as night draws in. I hear fewer children's voices as they are laid down to sleep, their parents no doubt staying close to ward off any nightmares their progeny may have after the day's unsettling events.

Of course, there's no one here to guard against _my_ nightmares. As I lay down on the pew with my weight on my good shoulder I recall the nights where Heero would hold me close until I drifted into an easy, dreamless sleep. War tends to affect even the best of slumberers and I am no exception. You can't begin to imagine what it is like to be plagued by visions of battles past and present, assaulted by faces of those injured and killed by your own hand, which flash through the mind like a grotesque slideshow. Having Heero hold me eased that terrible burden somewhat, but he is not here to guard me now and so I have to content myself with my arms, which I wrap around my slender body, ignoring the pain in my shoulder, which thankfully has lessened slightly.

I don't want to sleep since I feel on a knife edge waiting for something to happen, be it good or bad, but my body is protesting more successfully than my mind and before long, I have retreated into the blackness, which these days is barely distinguishable from my waking life as a blind man. As I drift into oblivion I say my prayers although I'm pretty sure the words do not get as far as my lips.

_Oh Lord, please keep Heero safe. I know it's selfish to ask when there are people suffering but please take care of him. If anything happens to me Lord, then please let Heero know that I always loved him. I want so badly to survive this war so we can build a life together but if that's not meant to be then I understand. I know we'll be together one day. I'll wait for you Heero, I promise…_

But if I went to sleep praying for a miracle, then it worked, although it wasn't exactly what I was expecting….

I wake to find something is different although at first, I cannot put a finger on what it is. I lie still for a minute or so, momentarily disorientated before my heightened sense of hearing picks up on someone stating the time; six forty-five am. Tuning in to other conversations, I learn that nothing has happened overnight and my heart lifts slightly in the hope that this is because Tyler has been successful in warning Heero of Oz's plans. The second thing that I learn is that I am damn well hungry and my stomach growls loudly lest I had missed the gnawing pains in my abdomen. I can only hope that Oz's caring pretence extends to keeping us well fed and to my relief, when I give my olfactory organs a workout, I am flooded with the scent of coffee and fresh bread. Realising that I may well miss out on these delights if I continue to give the appearance of one who is sleeping soundly, I haul myself into a sitting position to shake off the drowsiness.

That's when I realise what it is that is different.

_I can see something_.

Let's not get too excited here, after all, this isn't some fictional drama; you know - blind one minute, full sight the next. The day has dawned clear and bright and as the early morning sun beams in through the stained-glass window behind the altar, I am aware of the brilliance of the area in front of me in comparison, when I turn my head, to the more darkened area behind me. It's not a lot, but it's a start as I remove my sunglasses and find myself squinting, my brain registering the brightness and reacting accordingly.

"Oh wow," I find myself muttering but before I can contemplate this any further, there is a voice at my shoulder.

"Would you like some coffee?"

I instinctively turn towards the sound and am disappointed that there is no face accompanying it. The voice is female and inherently gentle and since I have no visual reference I imagine she is much like Sister Helen. I nod in response to her question, eager to have anything inside my empty stomach.

"Thank you," I say as she presses a cup into my hands. I take a grateful sip of the scorching liquid, sensing that I am still being watched.

"Was that your father that had the suspected heart attack?" the girl asks cautiously and I realise from her youthful tones that she is much younger than Sister Helen.

"Him? Oh no," I reply, shaking my head. "He's um, just a friend." I realise that not being with a friend in his moment of need would seem callous so I ask, "Is he okay now?"

"He's fine," she says confidently and I hear the creak of the pew as she sits down next to me. "My name's Marli."

"Duo."

"So, Duo, do you have a girlfriend?"

I smile in response to her boldness. "No I don't."

"Do you want one?"

I laugh and shake my head. "That could be tricky."

"Why, do you have a boyfriend?"

My laughter ceases at her perceptiveness, but my smile of amusement remains in place. "How old are you, Marli?"

"Eight and a quarter," comes the serious reply. "Now you answer _my_ question."

I sigh, knowing I cannot evade this interrogation. "Yes, I have a boyfriend. Happy now?"

"Uh huh," she says sagely, "Was it the guy that sneaked away last night?"

My eyes widen and I instantly fear for Tyler's safety. If a child saw him leave then surely Oz did too? Marli must have seen my worried expression because she says: "Don't worry, no one else saw him go."

I visibly relax. "Are you sure?" I ask, realising I am trusting the judgment of an eight year old girl.

"Totally," she replies with all certainty. "So is he your boyfriend?"

"No. My boyfriend isn't here."

"I see," she says as she starts to swing her legs back and forth, rocking the pew beneath us as she contemplates her next enquiry. "Do you love him?"

The question shocks me and for a moment I don't answer. My mind finally engages and I ask myself what the hell I am doing telling a complete stranger, a _child_ no less about my love life.

"Duo?" She's waiting for an answer.

"Yes I do… I love him very much."

"Is he going to come and save you?"

I frown at this slightly odd question. "Why d'you ask?"

"Because that's what handsome princes do, stupid!" she replies, as if she is talking to the dumbest person she has ever come across.

I allow myself to smile slightly at her childish innocence. "I hope you're right, Marli," I say, thinking of Heero and hoping that he is safe.

Before she can continue the Spanish Inquisition, a voice floats from somewhere behind me. A female, I'm guessing it's her mother, calls my new friend back to her family and in response, she jumps up from her seat. "Well goodbye, Duo," she says quietly. "I hope your handsome prince comes for you."

And then she skips away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. This…. this _situation_ is wholly wrong. People like Marli and her family have nothing to do with this war and yet they are here; forced to be pawns in a game than none of the major players truly understand. People like Marli and her family are the reason that people like me and the other guys ever took up arms in the first place, despite the hardship it has brought us ever since.

I could have pondered similar thoughts all day if it hadn't all gone off at that very moment. Yup, from here on in, things were about to get a little crazy.

It started with a door behind me slamming, quickly followed by the sound of booted feet running up the aisle past me. Before the owner of the feet can speak, there is a huge explosion from somewhere nearby, the strength of which rocks the very foundations of the church. The 'feet' save us from drawing our own conclusions.

"The gundams are at the base!" he yells, his voice more than a little tinged with fear. I've heard fear like that before; young men who sign up for the cause not fully understanding that war can result in their grizzly and untimely deaths. The realisation of just that usually comes right before they are about to meet their maker, but of course by then it is far too late for regrets and recriminations.

Other than the sound of destruction from several miles away, there is silence within the church. Fear is pretty contagious and right now, it's spreading like wild fire. The innocent citizens of Lyndberg are scared, and quite rightly so. We all wait in anticipation of what Oz will do next.

"How many gundams?" the captain snaps, unsympathetic of his underling's alarm.

"Four," comes the response and with that single word, my heart freezes. If there are four gundams at the base then Tyler never managed to contact Heero to tell him to stay away. He's dead. We're _all _dead.

The captain regains a little composure with the realisation that their master plan is running smoothly. "Okay," he shouts above another particularly large explosion, his voice carrying his authority above the blast. "Everyone remain calm. We're safe in here. I'm certain the gundams will not come near a church so we're in the best place possible."

_Bastards_. _Fucking bastards_.

How can they _lie_ like that? I shake my head in disgust, unconsciously reaching up to touch the handgun nestling in the inside pocket of my coat. I need to think and _fast_. If there's any way I can help any of these people escape then I need to think of it now, but in reality, time is the one thing you never get when you need it, and now is no exception.

I am drawn from my desperate ruminations by a single ear-piercing scream to my left. I turn to the sound and am greeted by nothing more several blurry shapes, which I'm guessing are people, one of which is the person responsible for that terrified shriek. Her reason for screaming quickly becomes obvious as someone else yells: "Oh shit, there's a gundam!"

We are all hopelessly drawn to the drone of engines, which grow louder and louder until the noise becomes unbearable. All around me people are screaming but I do nothing, except close my eyes and try to accept the fact that my life's contract is about to terminate itself. It's a bit of a head-trip to think that I am going to be killed by my lover's gundam, but I know that even though he is inside, there is little he can do about it with the controls frozen by the parasite. I just pray that Heero won't feel guilty for whatever happens here today.

The grumbling of the mecha's engines grow louder and I realise that it is outside. I instinctively look up to the source of the noise, which is directly ahead of me. But today is just full of surprises as just on the other side of the large stained glass window I am greeted by a blur which is the most welcome thing I have probably seen, period. I blink a couple of times in disbelief and the thought that this could be nothing more than a trick of the mind looms large in my brain. But no, despite my minimal vision, I cannot fail to recognise the large weapon being wielded by the gundam cast in silhouette by the brilliant morning sun. It's a thermal scythe.

Which means, that blur is most definitely Deathscythe.

Relief floods through me as a familiar voice booms out from the mobile suit, cutting through the sound of the engines and straight to my heart like a sniper's bullet. "Everybody get back," Heero calmly instructs, as the gundam looms in front of the window like a fairytale giant. "Please stay back and away from the window."

"Heero," I say to myself, just uttering his name giving me the strength to fight. I realise that people will be truly frightened now so I yell at the top of my lungs, urging people to do as he says. I drop to the floor in between the pews just as the sound of shattering glass adds to the deafening cacophony around us. Shards of the stained glass window rain down on us, but its destruction has created an escape route for the captive people of Lyndberg. However the building is obviously in a poor state of repair as masonry starts to crash down from the rafters, triggered by the initial explosion. The people have a way out, but the only problem is everyone is too scared to move. The troops are also in a state of confusion as their plan seems to be rapidly veering off course and I move into action to take advantage of the ensuing chaos.

"Bryn!" I yell, standing quickly and shaking off the dust and glass that are coating my hair and body. Something is trickling down my forehead and I reach up and feel blood mingling with my hair. Damn, glass cuts always bleed like hell. Before I can shout my companion's name again, his voice reaches my ears and I move my head, trying to locate the source.

"Bryn! Get people out now!" I bellow, coughing as dust forces its way down my throat. "Hurry!"

"But, Duo…" he yells back, and I know his loyalty to Tyler and Howard means he wants to get me to safety, but I have no intention of being first out.

"Just do it!" I roar, tripping over some debris from the blast as I make my way towards the back of the church in response to the sound of someone crying almost hysterically. As I listen more closely I realise there is a name being lamented between the sobs.

"Marli, where are you?" her mother cries in anguish as she darts around searching for her missing daughter. "Please, Marli, you don't need to hide now honey"

I almost bump into the woman as my poor vision causes me to misjudge the distance between us. When she senses me just behind her she spins around and clings to me, crying and begging for my help.

"Don't worry," I say, ignoring the pain as she sways against my damaged shoulder. "I'll find her but you need to get out now. The building is unstable."

"But Marli…"

"_Please_," I insist more forcefully this time, "I'll find her I promise."

Reluctantly she relinquishes her purchase on my clothing as someone else urges her to do as I say. With her gone, I begin to feel my way around this unknown territory, calling the little girl's name and offering other words of reassurance in an attempt to coax her from her hiding place.

"Marli, it's Duo," I say gently despite my inner voice telling me to run like hell as the building creaks and groans ominously above me. "You were right, my handsome prince _has_ come and he's here to save you as well."

Nothing.

"Please, Marli, your mom's scared and she can't be brave without you."

I pause as a small movement to my left alerts my attention. "Marli, is that you?" I ask hopefully and am relieved when a small voice responds. "My leg is stuck," she says and I move hurriedly towards the sound of her voice. When I find her, it's through touch, as the poor light renders me totally blind once more. She informs me that a statue of Christ fell from its wall mounting after the blast and came crashing down onto her hiding place, trapping her leg amongst the debris. Although I cannot see what I am doing, and my shoulder is protesting violently against the exertion, I make short work of the obstruction as I toss the detritus clear with a strength born of animal desperation.

Eventually she is free but she is clearly in shock as she stands next to me shivering so hard that I can feel the vibrations of her body. Somewhat awkwardly I remove my jacket and drape it over her shoulders, but not before I have removed Tyler's handgun, which I slip into the inside pocket of the lightweight jacket I am wearing underneath.

"Come on," I say, touching her shoulder gently, "you mom will be waiting outside."

Bryn has evidently succeeded getting everyone outside as we head up the aisle and I let Marli lead the way as the fallen masonry has created something of an obstacle course, which my limited sight cannot cope with. The crunching of glass becomes louder indicating that we have almost reached the destroyed window and thus our freedom, when a sound behind me causes me to turn.

The move proves to be a mistake as a fist connects squarely with my cheek, knocking me cleanly off my feet. Marli screams as she is forced to let go of my hand as I fall. Her cry is quickly replaced by another voice, which exudes a mixture of calm delight.

"Well, well, 02," the captain says as he looms over me. "Fancy seeing you here."

Before I can respond, the Oz soldier has hold of my braid and is yanking me to my feet. Pain shoots down through my scalp where it mingles with the agony rushing up from my damaged shoulder, which I have just landed on when I fell.

"Marli run!" I yell through a mouthful of blood and to my relief, she does as I say. My only thought as the enraged captain punches me in the face again is that at least I fulfilled my promise to her mother in rescuing her. I am awaiting further pummelling, still held upright by the rough grasp on my hair when a voice floats through the broken window just ahead.

"Let him go now."

"Heero!" I say, my words slurring as unconsciousness threatens. "Get away from here!"

"You heard him," the captain growls as he spins me round to face my lover so that his arm is hooked firmly around my throat. "Or d'you want me to snap his pretty little neck?"

The blur that I'm guessing is Heero freezes. Of all the scrapes we've been in, we have never had to deal with anything like this. The grip around my neck tightens as Heero shifts slightly in agitation.

"If you let him go then I won't kill you. You have my word," my lover states firmly, fighting to keep his emotions in check.

The captain laughs, a harsh raspy sound that comes from above me since he is a good foot taller than me. "I'm dead already," he says with chilling sincerity. "I lost both my sons when the Victoria base was destroyed by you scum. My wife is already dead so what have I got to lose? At least I'll go down a hero if I take one of you bastards with me."

As he finishes the sentence, he squeezes my throat a little tighter for emphasis of just how serious he is. My hands that are clawing desperately at his arm drop down a little as I start to drift towards oblivion and as they come to rest on something lumpy on my chest it takes a moment for it to register that I am touching the gun Tyler gave me.

The knowledge that I have a weapon pulls me back from the brink and I manage wake myself up enough to get my hand inside my jacket and take hold of the pistol. The captain however senses the movement and his free arm snakes across my body to pin my gun-holding arm to my chest. He doesn't seem to realise what I am doing, but the movement itself is enough to cause him to restrain me further and since I am using my injured arm, I haven't got the strength to push his second limb away in order to get the gun free.

This leaves me with only one choice; one that only sheer desperation will allow a man to contemplate, but I know that Heero cannot save me now and so the choice is as good as made. I manage to turn the gun slightly so that the barrel is pointing into my body and raise it so that, under my jacket, it is aimed at my shoulder. The captain has his body pressed against mine and, owing to the difference in height, I estimate that what I am about to do will cause more damage to him than me. At least I hope it will as I close my eyes, grit my teeth and pull the trigger.

The bullet tears through my shoulder causing phenomenal amounts of pain as we crash to the floor, but it does have the desired effect as the captain is forced to let me go to as he tends to his own wound. However Heero does not allow time for the shock to wear off as he rushes forward and fires his own weapon at the man crumpled on the ground behind me, and I know that his aim will be a little more accurate than mine. I'm guessing he's no longer a threat as Heero then hurries to me, scooping me up in his arms as he pushes blood and hair from my face.

"Heero…" I mutter weakly as the blur that is my lover threatens to fade out altogether. "I'm sorry for leaving. Can we go home now?"

"Shhhh don't talk," he says gently as he rips his t-shirt and uses it to staunch the crimson flow from my shoulder. "It's over now. You're safe, I promise."

I attempt to smile, but I can't be certain my face provides the appropriate response. Every part of me is hurting but the soreness is lessening as blood loss makes me light-headed. I'm safe now - Heero said so therefore it must be true. Those are good words to hear and as I let the blackness finally take me, my last conscious thought is that he didn't call me 'baka'…

TBC…


	10. Epilogue

**Author's note: Well, I hope you've all enjoyed this little tale. I'm glad that re-posting it has brought it to a new audience. I have a couple more Gundam stories to re-post and I'm hoping to write some new ones in the future. Thanks again for all the reviews - Swordy.**

**Warnings: sap!**

**Til the Clouds Roll By**

Epilogue.

My memories are a jumble; snatches of wakefulness blend into visions that I know can't be true. Faces swim into view before fading back into the oblivion and I am unsure whether during their fleeting visits we have communicated or not. There are occasions where pain creeps into the haze, but it doesn't stay long as I presume I am pumped with more drugs. Eventually the blackness lightens to a fuzzy grey and the voices start to make more sense, leading me to the conclusion that I am more awake than asleep. All in all, I come to the conclusion that this is not a bad existence, floating in this sub-reality and so I am reluctant to respond when the voices become more insistent that I re-join their waking world. But Heero's voice stands out, amongst the general encouraging and cajoling of my friends and medical staff. He sound sad and lost, like a bewildered child who finds himself far from home as he pleads with me to come back to him.

"Please, Duo," I hear him say as he squeezes my hand. "Don't leave me. I need you. I don't care that you're blind, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry if I've treated you badly, please just come back to me so I can make it right."

So he doesn't care that I'm blind huh? That comment in itself is enough to draw me from my half-life, even if it is to protest that he certainly never gave that impression while we were together. Start a fight? Me? Never!

"Will you shut up?" I say through scratchy, neglected vocal chords. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Duo!" Heero exclaims with a mix of surprise and happiness, his cry punctuated by a clatter of his chair as it hits the floor. "Let me get a doctor!"

I hear footsteps leaving and then two sets of feet returning. Frankly I can't see what the big deal is since I've been here all the time, listening to their endless one-sided conversations as they try to provoke me back to consciousness. Ha! The joke's on you!

I turn my head slightly and see two blurry shapes, one much taller than the other. The taller one moves closer to the bed after he has leaned in to the plethora of machines and monitors and pressed a few buttons.

"Mr Maxwell?" he says at my ear and a little too loudly for my liking.

"I hear you," I reply. "Deaf is one of the few things I ain't."

The doctor clears his throat in annoyance and moves to stand near Heero's blur once again. "He seems fine, just try not to get him excited."

"I won't," Heero replies, sounding surprisingly meek. "Thank you, Doctor."

The taller blur merges with the peripheral haze of my vision but it is the sound of the door closing that informs me that he has finally gone. I intend to play it cool but I suddenly remember what I've been through and my concern for another overrides my initial instinct.

"Tyler!" I say suddenly, looking round and instantly expect to see him. "Is he okay?"

"Relax, he's fine. He was shot in the leg but he was released from hospital about a week ago."

"Thank God," I say, allowing myself to settle back in bed.

There is a pause where neither I nor Heero moves; not that I could do much even if I wanted to since my body feels as if it's been encased in lead. Now I know Tyler is safe I can re-adopt my defensive stance. It may sound dumb, but I'm not entirely sure why I'm acting this way. My mind is having trouble organising my thoughts and recollections prior to my prolonged 'sleep' but something, like an elbow in the proverbial ribs, is telling me to keep my guard up.

"Well? Are you going to come and sit down or would you like me to stand up?" I say, intending it to sound neutral but it comes out tinged with sarcasm. Am I upset? Angry? I think so, but I'm not entirely sure why. I'm hoping Heero might be able to fill me in as he finally picks up the chair he knocked over and sits down next to my bed. He quickly encases my hand between his rough digits.

"Oh, Duo," he says quietly, evidently choosing to ignore my coolness, "I've been so worried. You've been unconscious for almost two weeks."

"Did you miss me?" I say a little sharply although I allow him to caress my hand as I lie there. I look directly at him although my vision is still too impaired to identify his expression.

"Are you angry with me, Duo?" he asks and I noticed he has stopped the caressing.

"I don't know. Should I be?" I say, answering the question with one of my own. I'm being evasive I know, but the hurt is returning in huge sweeping waves. He told me he loved me before he went badmouthing me and warning Wufei off helping me, so why should I trust him this time? I know it sounds petty to bring this up again since we both nearly just lost our lives, but I need the air between us to be clear if we're to make this work. I can't contemplate a relationship without honesty.

"Duo?" Heero says, distracting me from my thoughts. "At least tell me why you're angry. Don't I deserve that?"

"No, but I'll tell you anyway." I pause and sigh heavily. "Why did you tell Wufei not to train me?"

"What?"

"Don't deny it, I heard you."

"I don't… but…"

"Wing Link. I heard you on Wing Link," I snap.

"You _spied_ on me?"

"Whoah," I say, trying to sit up to lessen the vulnerability I feel at arguing in my prone position. "I'm not the one in the wrong here."

"You don't think spying on me is wrong?"

"Quite frankly no. Especially when you're saying one thing to my face and another thing behind my back."

Heero stands quickly, knocking over his chair again. He doesn't bother to pick it up before he moves to stand in front of the window opposite my bed. My guessing is he's putting a little distance between us to remove the temptation of smashing my face in. Poor Heero still has huge difficulty controlling his more extreme emotions, of which anger is one. When he speaks again, his voice is low and even.

"So what exactly are you accusing me of, Duo?"

"Of hurting me, Heero and lying to me. You told me you'd try and let me regain some independence and yet I overhear you, not intentionally I might add, telling Wufei to stay away when he has agreed to help me. You wanna tell me what's going on?"

No reply. Heero shakes his head although he doesn't know that I can see his non-verbal expression of frustration.

"Well?"

He finally turns back to face me. His moment of anger has passed and he is once again in control of his feelings. "Would you believe me if I tried to explain?" he says quietly.

"I can try," I say, prepared to at least hear him out.

Satisfied with this, Heero returns to my bedside although he doesn't sit down. "When the accident first happened, I had to inform Dr. J that you were out of commission, most likely permanently. I'll admit, I was afraid what his response would be but he asked me my opinion about what we should do with you. I told him I thought it was a shame to let your valuable skills go to waste. He told me to leave it with him as he had a few ideas. He contacted me a couple of days later to say he had found a possible solution, but he wasn't sure you'd be up to it."

"Which was?" I say, my interest now truly piqued.

"A derivation of the Zero system, which would allow you to pilot Deathscythe without sight. He had a prototype that he wanted me to test to see if it could really work. That was why I was away so often after the accident."

I let out a long slow breath, unsure what to say. "Why didn't you just tell me? At least I would have known you weren't just avoiding me."

Heero suddenly moves forward and for a split second I think he's going to hit me, but instead he falls to his knees next to my bed and grasps my hand.

"Why would you think I was avoiding you?" he asks, sounding truly shocked.

Here we go. More explanation of how normal people behave. "Because I'd been seriously injured and you seemed to be having a hard time coming to terms with that," I say trying not to sound as exasperated as I feel.

Heero's head droops. "I'll admit, it wasn't easy seeing you so badly hurt, but when Dr. J offered a solution I just threw myself into that. I never said anything because I didn't want to get your hopes up in case it failed." He pauses and when he speaks again his voice resonates with sincerity. "I love you, Duo, more than life itself and I just wanted to try and help you get back to doing what you do best. I couldn't imagine going on missions without you. I know that's selfish but I just wanted you there next to me."

I smile as warm emotions fill my heart before I am reminded of the original reason for this discussion. "But what about what you said to Wufei? Why did you not want him to help me?" I pause, unsure whether I should ask my next question or not. "Were you jealous?"

Heero shakes his head. "It wasn't that at all, well, not really. Dr. J had explained that mastery over the Zero system derivative would take extreme concentration and practice. I just didn't want you taking anything else on when getting you back inside Deathscythe was a priority."

I nod, although I'm a little disappointed that jealously wasn't his primary motive. Heero's head drops again, his face obliterated by the long bangs of hair. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Duo. Will you forgive me so we can try again?" In order to beg my forgiveness he lowers his head onto my hand, which he is still clutching desperately like a child with a teddy bear.

I smile at my Japanese lover as his lips graze my hand, his warm breath tickling my cool skin. Now that I know the truth, there's nothing to forgive. "Uh, Heero?"

"Hai?"

"Not that I think you need an anatomy lesson or anything, but my lips are up here." I point to my face for emphasis as he raises his head. Without visual confirmation of his expression I am uncertain what he will do next as he continues to stare at me. I'm surprised to say the least when he begins to laugh; a rich chocolaty sound that fills the room and spills out onto the corridor beyond. Laughter suits him and I mentally will him to do it more often, in fact, I make it my personal mission to make sure he laughs more often. Heero's blur grows larger as he leans in but the sound of his laughter brings others into the room, interrupting his advance.

"Heero?" It's Quatre, sounding anxious as usual. "We just got here. Is everything alright?"

"It will be," my paramour growls, "when you've closed the door."

Quatre, sensitive as always, takes the hint and makes a hasty retreat. Heero is not a man you disagree with if you believe in self-preservation.

"That was mean," I say unable to mould my grin into a suitably disapproving expression. "I've been out cold for two weeks, they probably wanted to see me."

"Tough," he replies firmly as he invades my personal space to bring us nose to nose. "They'll just have to wait until I've finished."

My ear-to-ear grin is swallowed up by Heero's feverish kisses as he attacks me in the best possible way. We continue in this vein for several long minutes until he leans a little too far and presses on my damaged shoulder, or should I say my more recently damaged shoulder since I've done both of them in recently. My reaction is a cry of pain, which nearly deafens him as he jumps back in surprise.

"Oh shit, Duo I'm sorry," he says contritely.

My response is to burst out laughing despite the agony throbbing through my body.

"What's so funny?" he asks crossly.

"You swore!" I reply in between chuckles. "The great Heero Yuy swore!"

The blur puts his hands squarely on his hips. "Ha ha," comes the droll reply and I realise with each conversation, slip of the tongue, use of sarcasm, he inches his way towards humanity and the rest of us.

"No no," I say quickly, "I like it. You sound like me."

Heero snorts. Evidently he doesn't think that's such a good thing. I sigh contentedly before I realise that the others are still outside. "Maybe you should let the guys in," I say although I'm reluctant to end this moment of unity.

"Yeah," he replies, sounding similar to how I feel. "But one more question."

I raise a quizzical eyebrow. "Go on."

"Why were you spying on me via your Wing Link?"

I pause to think and then realise I haven't shared the most exciting news and now that we're no longer at odds with each other I figure there is no better time than now. "You remember that Sally called for me before we moved safe houses? Well I called her back and she had some very interesting news for me." I explain everything that Sally told me as Heero sits quietly and listens. When I've finished, he asks me if there has been any improvement. I nod.

"Whilst I was in the church in Lyndberg I realised I could see the difference between light and dark. When you appeared in Deathscythe I knew we were safe because I could make out the outline of the thermal scythe."

"Can you see me now?"

"Partially. I can see you, the shape of you anyway but not your expression. Everything's still too fuzzy."

"But it's improving?"

"Seems to be," I say with a faint smile. "I'm just thankful for any improvement."

"Yeah," he says, taking my hand and squeezing it gently, "And even if there isn't any, I'm just glad you're still here."

"Me too," I say with a smile. "Me too."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Three months have passed since the incident at the Lyndberg church. I was released from hospital into Heero's care a week after I came round, and the whole time I was recuperating, he played the role of the ever-vigilant nursemaid with a dedication that would have put Mother Teresa to shame. Sounds like a dream doesn't it, but he nearly drove me demented with his constant pillow fluffing and repeated checking that everything was okay.

During my first month of enforced rest, I entertained a steady stream of visitors, including Howard and the entire Sweeper group (or it felt like the entire group with so many of them crammed into the front room of our latest safe house). Howard brought a note that had been sent via Bryn Fletcher from Marli and her family, thanking me for everything I'd done, although to be honest I really didn't do that much. Marli had also drawn a picture of me stood next to a young man wearing a crown and regal robes - my handsome prince. I tried to explain to Heero that the other figure was supposed to be him, but he didn't look entirely convinced.

Tyler also visited, on crutches owning to the bullet wound he'd received evading capture as he went to retrieve my laptop. Three months on he still walks with a pronounced limp although the other Sweepers reckon he puts it on in order to impress the ladies. Tyler of course strenuously denies it.

My eyesight continued to improve over the first month after I left hospital, although it's by no means as sharp as it was before the accident. There are still days when I see everything through a hazy curtain but I've learnt to compensate with my other well-trained senses. Even on bad days, I still feel confident behind Deathscythe's controls. After all Heero's hard work, I never actually required the use of the Zero system derivative, but I'll never forget that he did that for me. It means a lot that he wanted us to be a team again so badly. Sally reckons my eyesight's recovered as much as it will and that's fine with me. I'd learnt to accept my blindness so less than perfect vision is a stroll in the park.

So how are things between Heero and me I hear you ask? Heh, well I won't lie; we still fight like cat and dog over the most stupid things, but all in all, I'd say our love has grown since the Lyndberg incident. We talked long and hard about what we both wanted from our relationship and found that our desires really weren't that hard to achieve with a little communication. Heero still needs things spelling out for him from time to time, but I've learnt to accept that if I want Heero in my life, then his many foibles are all part of the bargain. I'm sure he thinks I've just as many shortcomings but he never tells me and I never ask.

So three months on, things seem to have returned to normal, if you can call a life at war 'normal'. Trowa and Quatre pretend not to fancy each other like crazy, despite the fact that you'd have to be blind to miss their obvious attraction to each other. Wufei pretends that he doesn't harbour feelings for the lovely Sally Po, despite the fact that he blushes every time he's in her presence, and me and Heero? Well we've finally stopped pretending. We'll never have a chocolate box, white picket fence, run-of-the-mill romance, but we've learnt to accept that despite all that, what we _do_ have is pretty damn special and worth fighting for, whatever the odds.

It's a life.

The End.


End file.
